


Lost

by StingSpring



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Confused Henry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Henry Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulative Adam, Romance, Slow Build Henry/Jo, Suspicious Jo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StingSpring/pseuds/StingSpring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry has died a million times and in a million different ways, but this time something's wrong. Fresh off a case, Henry gets kidnapped and after a mysterious injection, he's murdered. As usual, Henry wakes up but its just that this time, the last thing he can remember is London in 1816...what will happen in this brave new world that Henry remembers nothing about?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Henry opened his eyes with a gasp, eyes quickly searching through the darkness. He couldn’t for the life of him remember where he was or how he got here. He was lying down on what felt like a hard plank of wood in a very dark room. He made to sit up but was stopped half way by a tugging on both his wrists. Looking down, he could vaguely make out chains.

His heart stuttered unevenly. He was chained in a very dark room with no memories of how he got here and not the faintest idea of who held him captive.

Trying to calm his rapid breathing he tugged on the chains that kept him bound to what must be a table and thought through the last thing he could remember. The chains clinked together distractingly as he struggled and echoed off the walls in the room. The sound was so familiar; it caused a brief shot of panic to rise in him. He quickly stubbed the memories that threatened to overwhelm him of the last time he had been chained in a dark room—panicking would accomplish nothing—and focused instead to earlier that evening.

He had been walking home after a long but satisfying end to a case. It had been a beautiful evening and he had offered to see Jo home; his old traditional habits showing themselves once again. But her being the fully capable twenty-first century woman that she was of course turned him down, so he had to be satisfied with walking her to her cab.

He squinted in the darkness. This is where things started to get foggy.

He could remember her offering to split the cab but he had politely refused. Choosing instead to enjoy the brisk night air of the great city and the solitude of his own thoughts. He had waited until her cab had disappeared around the corner and begun walking, the usually busy streets empty, when a noise coming from a nearby alleyway captured his attention.

“Hello?” he had said into the darkness hesitant to walk any further.

There was no reply; the only thing that could be heard was the wind whistling through the trees around him. Turning around, he prepared to continue walking when he heard it.

“Hello, Henry.”

Whipping back around at the sound of the all too familiar cold voice, he cried out when the entire right side of his face erupted with pain and he fell to the ground. He was completely blindsided by whatever had hit him, but recovered quickly enough to pull his face off the floor and look up at the dark and slightly blurred figure that was slowly walking towards him.

“Sweet dreams, Henry.” He heard the cold voice of his stalker say and then everything had gone black.

He growled, tugging against the chains again in frustration. If only he had taken that cab with Jo! He’d probably be enjoying a nice glass of Cognac with Abe right now, safe in his home…

“I would stop that if I were you. The only thing you’re accomplishing is prolonging the inevitable.”

Henry froze, the room growing deadly silent as his now bloody wrists settled back down on the table. He looked in the direction the voice had come from and squinted, willing his eyes to see through the darkness.

He could vaguely make out a figure of a man standing a couple feet away.

_Adam._

“What do you want with me?” he whispered his voice trembling. His heart beat was rising and he could feel himself growing more and more anxious the longer he was chained up.

“I thought I had been clear in the taxi. I do not like to be ignored,” the voice that he had begun to hate with a passion lectured him as if he were a child who had disobeyed his father’s orders.

“You’re a psychopath! You manipulated me into killing another man!”

“An act that you will someday thank me for,” Adam reassured him, his footsteps echoing as he walked closer to the table. “You and I are the same, Henry. We should be walking this world together.”

“Never!” Henry spat out, struggling against his chains once again with earnest.

“Never is a long time, Henry. Both you and I know that one day, you’ll give in.”

All of a sudden, a bright light was turned on and he cried out, shutting his eyes tightly as his retinas burned.

“But until then, unfortunately, I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Henry slowly opened his eyes as he heard what sounded like metal tools being arranged next to him. His vision slowly came into focus and he could finally see his assailant.

Seeing the face of the psychologist again seemed to cement his feelings of despair. For some reason he had found himself hoping that his stalker had not been the friendly psychologist he had briefly opened up to. That it would be the face of an obviously deranged psychopath. But wishful thinking wasn’t going to solve anything.

How many times would he have to be betrayed before he learned to stop trusting to people?

More clinking noises distracted him from his thoughts and he tried to see what Adam was holding but he was at a bad angle.

“What are you going to do to me?”

At the sound of Henry’s whisper, Adam looked up.

“I’m going to test a theory I’ve been forming for quite some time now,” he mumbled holding up a glass syringe with a very large needle up to the light and flicking it a few times with his finger.

Henry watched the bubbles float up through the liquid that was a sickly orange color and gulped. If he thought he was panicking before that was nothing compared to how he felt now.

“If you’re looking for something more specific then I’m going to inject you with this needle and then I’m going to kill you,” he stated as he walked to stand over Henry.

“You’re insane!” Henry whispered heart hammering in his chest as Adam brought the needle closer and closer to his neck. He began to struggle restlessly against his chains now, doing all that he could to get even a centimeter away from that long needle. But Adam just chuckled and held his head against the table with a force that made Henry’s brain hurt under all the pressure.

“You and I seem to have very different definitions of the word ‘insanity’.”

And then Henry felt a searing pain in his neck and his world turned black for the second time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of future induced awe in this chapter with a bit of fear and a whole bunch of confusion for poor Henry.

He gasped in a wild and desperate breathe of air as he was pushed to the surface and almost halfway out of the water.

He worked on breathing for a couple seconds, gulping in the air hungrily as if his lungs hadn't been used in a while and then fell into the familiar action of staying afloat.

The first thing that registered in his mind was that it was nighttime, then that the water was absolutely  _freezing_ , and finally that he must have been killed.

He couldn't recall anything about how he had died though which was strange. Usually he could remember all too well what would end his life, particularly how it was ended. But this time his memory was a complete black hole.

As he steadily treaded the water he noticed something else, the night was incredibly bright. Much brighter than when under the full moon…

He spun around in the water so that he could actually see his surroundings and what he saw made his jaw drop.

Surrounding him where enormous monument-like objects. They all had dozens upon dozens of bright light shining out of them in small sections and were so tall it seemed as if they were touching the sky.

_Where am I?_

He was still gaping up at the sheer size and quantity of what must be buildings when he realized that he couldn't feel his hands or his feet. In fact, his entire body was shaking so violently from the frigid temperature of the water he was in that he was surprised he was still able to move at all.

He had no idea where he was and what had happened, but he did know that he had to get out of the water quickly. Any longer and he would be at risk of frostbite. Tearing his eyes away from the awe-inducing sights, he spotted shore and began to swim for it, his mind reeling with questions.

How did he get here? Where  _was_  here?...how was he going to find clothes? The last thought occurred to him as his bare feet finally touched rocky sand and his obvious state of undress was brought to his attention.

He immediately began to feel more and more nervous as he cleared the water and was fully on land. It was so bright that anyone looking could see everything.

He longed for the familiar darkness he always had that would hide his body long enough to find clothes. But unfortunately here it was bright so he would just have to make do with it.

Feeling a little more determined, he squared his shoulders and began walking but soon slowed again.

Where would he go? He had no inkling of where he was and quite frankly he felt a little intimidated by the monstrous constructions that lay before him.

_Just make do with it like always_ , he reminded himself again and began making his way for the hardened street set in his sights.

He sighed in relief when his bare feet finally left the rocky ground and reached the smooth street, realizing that it was made out of Portland cement. It was a rare material that wasn't seen often but here it was everywhere, he realized as he took in his surroundings with wide eyes.

All of a sudden, he was blinded by a bright light and lifted his hands to shield his face.

"Well, if it isn't Doctor Morgan…was wondering when we'd run into you again," a deep voice with a strange accent he had never heard before said.

There was a click and then the light vanished but was replaced with two sets of hands taking hold of both his arms.

At the rough touch, Henry's heart jumped. The last time he had been grabbed like this had not ended anywhere near well. "Wait! Where are you taking me?" he demanded, "unhand me!" he practically yelled when the two men didn't stop.

"Relax, doc. We're takin' you downtown, just like last time, remember?"

He most certainly did not remember, but didn't see much of a choice. He wouldn't be able to get far like this, especially since he had no idea where he would go.

so with a sigh, he swallowed his panic and let the two men who were dressed ridiculously lead him to wherever they were taking him. Besides, it's not like they had much reason to hold him...at this point, learning more about the mysterious place he was in would be his only advantage.

But after a few seconds, he realized that the two men had addressed him by name and title. How did they know him? Who were they?

At this point, he had so many questions and was so overwhelmed that by the time they walked him towards a gigantic metal… _thing_  and directed for him to get inside it, he didn't even question it. He just climbed inside and closed his eyes tightly as the contraption began to move at speeds that were  _much_  faster than a carriage.

* * *

"Okay, Doc. Time to get out," that rough voice instructed him again.

Henry slowly released his death grip on the smooth leather of the seat and climbed out, his legs feeling shaky.

He looked around but everything was the same save for the added light from sunrise. If anything, now there were even more of the gigantic buildings and metal contraptions. "Where am I?" he asked one of the men as they began to bring him into one of the large buildings.

The man gave him a confused look, "Man, how much you had to drink, Doc? We're at your job."

Henry just nodded and tried not to look confused at the inside of the building. Everything just looked so…alien.

"Well, today's your lucky day, Doc. We're not gonna arrest you. Now we're under orders just to bring you straight to the Lieutenant to get a beating if we found you wandering around naked again."

Fear struck through his stomach at the man's words and he abruptly stopped in his tracks.

"Come on, it's not that bad," he was told with a laugh and even though he was struggling, they still managed to push him into the room.

Glancing around the room fearfully, his eyes immediately searched for anything that could be used to hurt him. The man said he was going to get beaten; there must be some kind of weapon in here; chains, knives…something? But all he was met with were books and finally turning around, it was then that he noticed a woman was seated behind a desk on the opposite side of the room, staring at him sternly. He relaxed slightly but not completely. He may not be able to see any weapons but with the look this woman was giving him, he had feeling that he should still be worried. He was just thankful he was wearing clothes—no matter how strange they were—so at least the lady didn't have to see him in his undressed state.

"Sit. Down," the lady commanded, her teeth clenched.

He did as he was told.

"I thought we agreed that there wouldn't be any more sleep walking. Or that you would at least wear pajamas," the women informed him.

Henry stared at her blankly, "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," he said but immediately regretted it as the woman looked at him as if her eyes alone could kill him.

"I do not want to hear anymore about this, do you understand?" every word was said with such force and power that it had Henry shaking in his seat.

"Yes, Madam. I do apologize," he quickly said.

She gave him a confused look and opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but then seemed to think better of it.

"Just…dismissed."

"Thank you," he told her and with a slight bow, practically ran out of the room. He had never faced such a fearful woman in all his days!

Closing the door so as to cut himself off from her gaze, he faced a much larger room filled with people all milling around and talking at the same time. He looked around and barely noticed when his mouth fell open again. On every single table in the room sat squares with pictures on them…and some of the pictures were moving!

Henry ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands a bit. He had to get out of here. He had no idea where he was and what was happening. Maybe if he just got out, he could find some time to  _think_ …

Finding the doorway where he came in, he was about to make a hasty exit when the sound of his name being called stopped him in his tracks.

"Henry! There you are…I've been looking all over for you! Abe's been calling me every five minutes…"

He turned around to look at the woman that was talking to him, releasing a slow sigh. How did all these people know him when not even one of their faces was familiar to him?

But there was something different about this woman. She spoke to him differently than the others did. She used a softer tone; almost like she considered him as a friend of sorts.

He felt a faint hope rise…maybe she was the key to finally getting some of his questions answered.

The sound of his name being called again pulled him from his thoughts.

Looking up, he noticed she was staring at him with something that looked like worry on her face, her right eye squinting slightly.

"Are you okay, Henry?" she asked him laying a hand on his arm so gently that he couldn't help but look down at where she was touching him, a small curiosity brimming in his thoughts.

But then he came to his senses, he needed answers right now. "No, I am not alright," he ignored the look of surprise that came across her face and glanced around him, "is there some place we can speak? Privately?" he whispered, watching her eye him almost suspiciously.

"Yeah, we could go to your office…"

He smiled brightly at her, "Perfect!" but she continued to stare at him as if she were waiting for  _him_  to take the initiative…that wouldn't do. "Lead the way," he swept his hand in front of him, trying not to point his hand in any direction in particular.

Finally she gave one small huff and led him in the direction of what looked like two slabs of metal pushed together to form a barrier in the wall. When she got close enough, he saw her push a small button on the wall that lit up just from her touch.

He couldn't help but stare at the light in amazement…how did the piece of material that had no flame in it so far as he could tell give off light?

Wherever he was, he couldn't help but think that it was amazing.

His amazement grew when the two metal barriers opened to reveal a small room no bigger than a broom closet. His companion walked in like she was taking a stroll through the park and stood around, facing him.

After a second in which he did nothing but stare at the women wondering what in the world she was doing, she gave him a look, eyes wide.

"Come on, Henry!" she said sounding annoyed now.

He hesitantly put one foot in the metal closet…he definitely did not want to barricade himself in this small space but the longer he took, the more annoyed the woman started to look and then finally the contraption began to make an unpleasant shrilling noise that hurt his ears. So gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and jumped in.

He gasped loudly when the whole thing lurched and he lost his balance slightly, arms flailing. The women just sighed and grabbed his arm to steady him, pulling him so that he was facing the same direction that she was facing.

He distinctly heard her mumble something close to 'what I put up with' as she pushed another button on the metal wall and he was left to watch as the metal doors slowly closed, all the while resisting the urge to run forward and bang on the doors as his view of the busy room slowly disappeared behind the metal barrier.

When the room began to move he couldn't help but jump in surprise.

"What's happening?" he murmured to the woman next to him. It felt as if his stomach was quickly rising up his chest.

She gave him an exasperated look, "It's taking us down, Henry…why are you acting so weird?"

Just as she asked the last question, the metal doors slid open with a ping to reveal a new room and he sighed in relief to get out of the small box.

"I'll tell you when we enter the privacy of my office, care to lead the way?" he asked her again, doing his best to mask his nervousness with a charming smile as she sighed and walked ahead of him.

As they walked across the room, the woman greeted various people working on what appeared to be dead corpses.

Henry's eyes widened when he saw all of the bodies that were cut open on tables and he tried not to stare. He had no idea what they were doing to them but whatever it was, it was something he had never seen before.

He kept his eyes firmly trained forward. The more time he spent in this strange building, the more he wanted nothing else but to escape it.

"Hey, Lucas," she greeted one remarkably tall young man who looked up at her with a bright smile.

"Hi, Detective," he greeted cheerfully then looked at him with the same smile, "Henry! I mean Doctor Morgan, had a good morning?"

"Yes fine, thanks" he replied as politely as he could manage, doing his best to hide the confusion he felt.

Ignoring the strange look he got from the man (who honestly looked closer to a boy) named Lucas, they finally walked into a room with a large desk centered near the far wall and the woman closed the door behind him.

Henry took in the room— _his_  room—with curious eyes. Everything was all neat and tidy and with a quick glance at the book case filled to the brink with medical books and a few novels and he knew…this room was his. It had an air about it that just felt familiar and right to him. He sensed eyes on him and turned around to face the woman who now held a fierce determination in her eyes, her arms folded over her chest.

"Okay, now tell me what's going on."

Henry took a deep breath to steady himself. God, he hoped she wouldn't think he was crazy by the end of this.

"Well, might as well start at the beginning," he murmured more to himself than anything but still looked up to meet the woman's eyes, determined to solve this mystery that all of a sudden had appeared in his life, "where am I?"

"I just told you, we're in your office—"

"No I mean what state," he cut her off abruptly and she stared at him, eyebrows furrowing.

"New York…but how can you not know that?"

"New York?" he murmured to himself, eyes growing wide with shock, "do you mean to tell me that we are in the United States right now?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if she wanted to say something but couldn't form the words. Finally she seemed to settle on what to say, "Okay, you need to start from the very beginning. What happened to you last night?"

He turned away from her and raised his hands in a fit of frustration, "I don't know! I can't remember anything past early this morning!"

"Well, then we have to get you to a doctor! You may have some sort of head trauma or something-"

"No!" he interrupted her, whipping around and making her jump with the amount of emotion that was making his voice tremble, " _no_  doctors! Promise me!"

Henry waited until she slowly nodded her agreement, "What's the last place you remember being in then?"

"I was in London," he said hesitantly. He wasn't sure how much to say but he needed help from  _someone_ , "what year is it?" he asked all of a sudden, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask earlier.

"2015, is this not the year you remember being in London at?" she asked quietly.

Henry felt something twist in his stomach and before he could stop them, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, "The year was 1816…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, there it is. I hope Henry doesn't seem too out of character. I figured since he technically isn't the Henry from 2015 that he would be a little different in his actions and confidence and stuff. Also, as I mentioned earlier, this chapter was mainly focused on how Henry is viewing and reacting to the modern stuff. The next chapter will focus a bit more on plot moving stuff.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! :D


	3. Chapter 3

"1816," the woman—who he still had no name for yet—stated dubiously, "The last memory you have is of London in 1816."

Henry cringed and looked down at his strange shoes. He could not believe he had just said that! A moment of weakness in his state of shock now might just cost him his freedom. The silence between them grew as he tried to decide what should be said. He estimated his chances of being able to explain himself and had to admit that they were slim. She sounded like a reasonable woman but he knew there was very little reason when it came to his condition. Besides, he had thought his wife was a reasonable woman and look where that landed him.

He continued to panic in the blanket-like silence that settled over them. He needed more time to think. His racing thoughts were offering him nothing but a raised pulse and new sheen of sweat on his skin that would soon become visible to his companion.

So he settled for a fast and relatively easy answer.

"Yes."

The silence between them stretched on until it felt as if it was physically constricting him and he had to look up. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to see…anger, fear, maybe even disgust, but when he snuck a glance at the woman standing across from him, he saw instead the expression of an individual deep in thought. It looked as if she were facing a riddle she was determined to solve.

He was not quite sure what her speculation meant so decided it would be safer if he awaited her verdict in silence. His fate now rested in her hands and he couldn't help but feel that any more talking from him right now might just ruin whatever chances he had.

"And then you don't remember anything after I left you last night."

He tilted his head and tried to gauge her expressions…just what was his relationship to this woman? "No, I woke up, or came to my senses, in the water."

He tried his best to hold back the wince that threatened to show itself on his face again. He honestly did not want to reveal his secret to this stranger, but at this point…he wasn't sure what choice he had. He was in a strange place in a strange time. If he had any hope of finding out what happened to him, he'd need a guide…

The woman continued to stare at him with a look he knew all too well though. She looked at him as if he were crazy.

"How is this possible?"

He sighed. This was the turning point. He could either place his blind trust into this woman or he could do his best to lead her away.

Making up his mind, he took a small step closer to her purely for reassurance, "What do  _you_  think happened?"

Jo ran a hand through her hair and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, "Whatever it is, it's not sounding good," she said with a shake of her head, "it sounds to me like you got jumped, hit in the head, and dumped into the river. But why you would wake up with memories of a different time period is beyond me…we really should take you to get looked at."

Henry shook his head a little too vigorously to pass as a normal man in good health and he knew it. He knew that he probably looked even more mentally ill with his strong refusal of entering any facility, but he didn't care.

He'll be damned before he gets locked up again.

But how was he going to convey to this woman that he was not mentally ill, just a little misguided in what time he was in…well, maybe very misguided, he corrected after a little more thought.

But if there was one thing he had learned through each and every one of his deaths was that when it came to him, anything was possible and that it was best to keep an open mind. After all, if he was able to become immortal in one night, who knew what else could happen.

This was what kept him convinced that he was  _not_  crazy, but now the question was how to convince  _her_.

"I don't need a doctor, I can guarantee it. If there were any head trauma, rest assured I would know of it," he said reassuringly, trying to convince her, "I just seem to have trouble recalling some memories."

She gave him a look that was stuck somewhere in between bewildered and skeptical.

"Henry, I just saw you last night and now the last thing you remember is London in 1816…I think this is a little more than just amnesia."

Henry sighed. God this woman was stubborn! He could easily see that he was making little or no headway with her at all. Making this as good a time as any for a subject change…

"My apologies but it would seem I never caught your name?" he asked her, trying to fix an easy smile on his face to loosen her own tense movements that seemed to have a suspicious edge to them.

But it would seem that his question only served to make her even tenser as she fixed him with a startled expression. For a second, he could have sworn he had seen a flash of sorrow cross her eyes, but just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, leaving behind some of the softer tones he had seen when he first met her.

"It's Jo, I'm a Detective here," she told him, "and you're an M.E.—a Medical Examiner," she added in after a second, "I guess you wouldn't really remember anything about that, would you?"

"No, it so happens that I would not…but earlier you mentioned another name. I believe it was Abe?"

She let out a sigh and motioned for him to sit down behind the large desk and he quickly complied. It would seem that he was finally getting the information he needed.

"He's your roommate. He and your Father used to be business partners in the antique business, so you two have known each other for a long time."

He held in a frown. It appeared that he had just heard a cover story. What Jo described was impossible, but who here could possibly know his secret? Ever since Nora he had been especially careful, he couldn't even imagine telling someone of his own free will. But by the way Jo described this Abe, it gave him the impression that he knew there was more to him than meets the eye.

Whoever this man was, Henry had a very strong feeling that he knew of his condition.

"Would it be possible for me to see this Abe? From what you tell me we're quite close, maybe seeing him will help revive some of my lost memories."

Jo hesitated, "I'm still not convinced on the whole doctor thing-"

"Just give me a day to see if my memories come back…then you can take me to any doctor you wish," but even as the words left his mouth he instantly regretted them. Quite honestly, he had no intentions whatsoever of being taken to any facility. The memories of the last one were still much too fresh in his mind.

A slight shudder ran through him at the memories that threatened to overwhelm him and he quickly stood out of his chair, clapping his hands together to try and cover his nervousness. "Well! If it's all right with you, I'd like to get started. The more time I have the better."

She slowly nodded but wouldn't let her eyes wander too far away from him, "Let me just give him a quick call," Jo pulled out her cell and began to dial, "He must be worried sick about you…" she murmured absentmindedly but when she noticed the way Henry was looking at her, she left her sentence hanging.

Henry was staring at the cell phone in her hands, eyes wide as saucers. She glanced back and forth from him and her cell, "You really can't remember  _anything_ , can you?"

He furrowed his brow and sighed, "No."

* * *

Henry stumbled out of the moving machine the second it stopped; brushing off the strange clothes he was wearing when the Detective gave him what appeared suspiciously like an amused look.

"I'm sorry," he said as she got out of the machine herself, "I just don't think that I'll ever get used to that."

Jo glanced between him and the very contraption he was convinced was going to cause him his next death and smiled, "What, the car?"

"If that's what you call it then yes," he told her disdainfully, "It goes much too fast for my liking."

"Well it's a good thing you don't have to drive it then," she answered and pulled him towards a set of doors on the cement, "Come on, Abe's been worried sick about you."

Henry took a quick look at the building Jo was pulling him into. It was an antique shop and quite a charming one at that, but before he could gather any more, he was already past the doors and standing inside the cluttered store.

Looking around at all the furniture and various objects scattered around the room, his eyes finally settled on an elderly man sitting on a sofa couch on the far side of the room. Henry tilted his head curiously. The man was looking at him with something similar to panic and sheer relief on his face.

Henry watched as the man stood and quickly approached him, the relief in his eyes slowly transitioning to a slightly angry look. Even though this Abe was a complete stranger to him, he could easily tell that the emotion wasn't worn often and seemed almost out of place on his face.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked him.

Henry raised an eyebrow. It's not that the man's tone was confrontational, more like relieved and curious. It's just that Henry had hardly ever had anyone come up to him and speak their mind so straightforwardly.

He didn't have many friends that cared about him or knew him well enough to actually question him. His aloofness made him seem strange to others and he knew it, was actually the reason why he maintained it. So when this man that he couldn't remember ever seeing in his entire life came up and started questioning him like it was his right to know the information just as much as it was Henry's…well, he was stunned to say the least.

"That has a rather complicated answer attached to it," he finally said after a few seconds. He could vaguely see Jo standing a little off to his side, watching them. He had to direct the conversation in a different direction if he had any hope of protecting what was left of his secret from the detective.

He forced what he could only hope was a pleasant smile and stuck out his hand, "It's Abraham, if memory serves."

That seemed to break the worry right off the man's face, replacing it with a surprise and sorrow that reminded him of Jo's expression earlier. The only difference so far that he could tell was a flash of pain that could fleetingly be seen run across the man's face before just as quickly it had appeared, it was gone. But Henry knew what he had seen and couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt for being the one responsible for that pain.

"Y-yeah, its Abraham," the man in question finally sputtered, seemingly recovered a bit from whatever was going through his mind. He quickly shook Henry's hand, letting go quickly as if the contact and gesture were unfamiliar to him…but that couldn't be right…gentlemen still shook hands in this age, didn't they? Henry was about to tumble into the frightening place that was the possibility of friendly handshakes not existing anymore when he saw Abraham pull Jo a little ways away from him, both angled just enough to annoyingly limit his view on what they were saying.

It was a good thing his hearing was at top notch when he listened carefully.

"I thought you said he was having memory problems. I'm not sure what qualifies as memory problems in your book, but this-" Abe paused to gesture a flailing arm in Henry's direction, "definitely does not!"

Henry smiled when the Detective looked over at him from where they were apparently having their secret conversation and acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. What they didn't know wouldn't harm them after all.

"I know," Jo answered him, "I wasn't sure how much to say. Once you hear the last thing he remembers, you'll understand why."

He couldn't help but flinch slightly at hearing what the Detective was no doubt about to make him do. Telling her the truth about the last thing he remembered had been a careless mistake and had only happened because of his shock at hearing what year he was now in. He plastered on a quick smile when she turned towards him.

"Henry?"

"Hmm?" he answered as innocently as he could.

"You want to tell Abe about the last place you remember?"

Henry took a deep breath for a few seconds to calm himself. He could see this all ending very badly if he said too much, "London in 1816."

At Henry's words, Abraham's face turned white as a sheet and his eyes flickered quickly to where Jo stood next to him.

So the man did know his secret then!

"Huh, ain't that something! You get knocked a little too hard on the old noggin, Henry? Abe said with what Henry could tell was obviously a nervous chuckle…he just hoped the Detective couldn't.

"He says he woke up in the water so I think he got jumped, but so far that's all we know," Jo told Abe, "and he's completely against me taking him to get checked out so I just brought him here," she added in, shooting an accusing glance in Henry's direction.

"Yeah, he's always had this thing about doctors…always thought it was kind of ironic considering he  _is_  a doctor, but he's usually been able to take care of any medical stuff himself."

Henry took a small step forward so as to further insert himself in the conversation. It was beginning to feel as if he were a child being discussed by his parents, but it didn't seem to make much difference as Jo just shook her head sadly.

"I don't think that's going to be the case this time," she explained.

Henry could tell that he was about to get lectured on all the reasons why he should go to get evaluated so he opened his mouth ready to offer a rebuttal when all of a sudden, a light ringing filled the otherwise quiet room.

"What is that noise?" Henry asked, looking at the source of where it was coming from.

The Detective pulled out what she called a 'cell' and looked at the front of it, frowning slightly at what she saw.

"It's just my phone," she answered his earlier question and put the device to her ear, "sorry; I've got to take this."

When the Detective walked away from them, speaking into the phone, Henry turned back to face Abe. He wasn't quite sure of what to say. There were so many questions that needed answering but where to start?

Abe was staring back at him in return, his brow furrowed and his eyes watching him intently as if examining his every move for note. They continued to stare at each other, Henry at a loss for what to say and Abe with too much to say, both knowing that they had to wait for when they were alone to speak about what was on their minds.

Finally, the Detective returned, face grim.

"I've got a body," she announced to them as if it were a term used daily between them, "sorry, but I guess we'll have to finish this later."

There was a second when she was grabbing her coat, about to leave, where she turned towards Henry like she was expecting him to grab his coat too but then quickly caught herself, her expression returning back to the slight frown she'd been harboring ever since learning of his memory problem.

He raised a questioning eyebrow and she quickly offered an explanation.

"Sorry. I guess I'm just used to you coming with me."

He couldn't help but ask now, "What exactly does my job entail?"

"Well, you're just an M.E. so you're only supposed to examine the bodies but lately you've been helping with the cases too. You're like Sherlock Holmes when it comes to mysteries," she said with a smile but upon seeing Henry's confused look, her smile faltered. "Usually you would come but I think for now it'd be better if you focused on your memory."

"Yes, it would seem that that would be the wisest decision at the moment," he told her secretly relieved that he would be able to learn a little bit more about his situation in a few moments.

"One day," she reminded—or more like threatened—him while buttoning the neck of her coat and then she was gone, braving the windy weather of the strange place he was in.

Henry turned back to Abe a bit apprehensively. Now that the two were finally alone, he could not help but feel a little nervous at facing the older man's inquisitive gaze. It was a bit unnerving to be examined by a man that apparently new everything about him and his condition while he in turn knew nothing about his companion—or  _roommate,_ he corrected.

It made him want to hide behind a large piece of furniture but he didn't think that kind of behavior would be appreciated by Abe…or anyone really.

Finally, the older man spoke.

"I'm going to go put on some tea. You can go change, I bet you're hating those clothes you're in right now," he mumbled to him then pointed a finger in the direction of a hallway, "you're bedroom is over there, just look in your closet and you'll find the clothes you usually wear…may be a bit different than what you're used to I guess, but you should feel a little more comfortable."

Henry glanced down at the strange clothes he was wearing then looked at Abe gratefully, "Thank you."

The older man nodded impassively and Henry took his queue to leave the room, walking towards the hallway that Abe had pointed to with the first open room set in his sights. Giving a quick glance at the room, Henry walked in further.

Similarly to earlier with his office, he had but to look at the decorations that lined the walls of the room to know it was his. There was a large bed with dark bedding covering it and matching pillow bearers on the far side of the room. Upon further inspection, Henry saw that the frame was carved out of solid oak, his favorite kind of wood due to its durability and the original beauty it's able to hold. There was a matching dresser with a large mirror off to the right side of the room and a large closet on the left.

He began searching inside of the closet for any clothes that looked even vaguely familiar to him but with no such luck. With a sigh, he pulled out a piece of clothing and examined it.

It had a waistcoat, which gave him hope. It also had a coat but it wasn't the same kind of coat he was used to...the tails were missing. Also the breeches were much too long and there was a strange long piece of satin in the place of where his cravat would go.

He took a step back and examined the piece of clothing as a whole, head tilting. Perhaps with a little modification to the neck piece and appropriate footwear…he might just be able to make this acceptable to his standards.

About ten minutes later, Henry walked into the kitchen where Abe was filling a pair of teacups.

"Might I ask what tea it is you're brewing?" Henry asked, announcing his arrival to Abe.

"English breakfast," he said loading all tea necessities on a tray, "and don't worry, it's the real stuff not the…what the  _hell_  are you wearing?"

Henry raised both his eyebrows and glanced down at himself. He had been able to find a piece of cloth that could act as an acceptable cravat to tie around his neck collar and while he couldn't do anything to fix the coat and length of the breeches, he had managed to find a pair of imitation Wellington boots that were able to cover up the legs of the breeches. It wasn't perfect but he was doing his best.

"What?" he asked Abe, confusion written in his voice.

Abe walked up to him—tea tray left forgotten on the kitchen counter—and came to grab Henry's cravat, "You look ridiculous! And why is your collar up like this?" he hastily flattened down Henry's raised collar, "My God, Henry. You actually used to dress like this? Another reason I'm a twentieth century fan," he mumbled while walking back to grab the tray and placing it on the table.

Henry was still standing in the same spot, confused as ever. He wore these clothes everyday and no one had ever called him ridiculous…quite the opposite actually. But then again, that had been a few centuries ago. Finally, he walked a bit closer to where Abe was adding milk and sugar to the tea, his boots landing heavily on the wooden floor with great thumps.

Abe glanced at the cause of the sound and almost lost his spoon in the tea. "Pirate boots?" he spluttered and then he broke into a large grin that was quickly followed with chuckles of laughter.

"They are not 'pirate boots,' they are called Wellington boots named after the Duke of Wellington of 1769. A very respectable soldier and man I assure you…why do you continue to laugh?" Henry asked in confusion as Abe's laughter grew the more he looked at Henry.

"Sorry, sorry," Abe choked out with a wave of his hand, "it's just—you. You're whole setup," he gestured at Henry's clothes. When Henry continued to look perplexed, Abe wiped his forehead and turned back towards the tea, "First thing you've got to relearn if you want to keep your secret safe is to fit in. That means losing the outfit, Henry. Pirate boots and all."

"How do you know my secret?" Henry blurted out. The curiosity had been gnawing at him since hearing of this man and now hearing him talk of his secret so casually… it made all of his built up curiosity come tumbling out and not quite in the controlled way that Henry was used to.

Abe glanced up at him with a smile and sat down in a wooden seat in front of a matching table, "Now  _that_  is a funny story," he said with mirth, "but first things first. You really can't remember anything?"

Henry guessed that it was because of the Detective's absence that Abe was asking him again just to be completely sure, but unfortunately it was. "Yes, what you heard from Jo is true."

Abe sat back in his chair, looking physically dazed and astounded by Henry's confirmation. He looked distractingly at the floor for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought. Henry just stood quietly, letting the man have a chance to get his bearings. Whatever his relationship to this older man was, it was clearly very important.

Finally, the man seemed to come out of his daze and looked back at Henry with a grim silence.

"Well, it looks like we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, it appears we do."

Abe shrugged, "Okay, well I'm ready if you are."

Henry inclined his head to show his willingness for the man to continue, "Please."

The man took a few seconds of silent preparation and then looked Henry fully in the eye, "I'm your son."

And then he felt his knees go weak and the hard wood floor was all of a sudden a lot closer than it had been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's chapter 3! Thanks so much for the kudos, guys. I really appreciate them! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked back up at Abe and allowed the smallest of smiles to appear on his face, "Let's get to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!   
> So sorry for the long absence, I finally managed to get back online after my wifi pretty much blew up. Alls good now though, so updates should be coming a lot quicker now:)  
> Hope you enjoy.

"Henry!"

He heard the man shout…the man…his  _son_.

Henry shook his head defiantly. It wasn't possible. It just was  _not_   _possible_.

"Henry, are you alright?"

He looked up from his half sitting position on the hard wood floor at the worried face that was staring at him from about two inches away and shook his head again.

It was all just too much. He didn't think he could take anymore…but the man continued speaking to him. Reassuring things that he did not even hear because he was so involved in his own tangled thoughts that everything else was blocked out.

He was a father. He had raised this man who was more than half his age. He had watched this man grow up every day of his life, seen him change and mature, go through conflicts and happiness and he could not even remember a single second of it.

He was vaguely aware that Abe was pulling him up off the floor and into one of the wooden chairs.

He looked into the hazel eyes of his son and willed his brain to remember, just to remember at least one fragment of their life together, but everything was black…he couldn't see anything.

"Henry, are you okay?" Abe asked him again, giving his shoulders a tight squeeze.

Henry tried to find his voice and words that would be suitable to describe what he was feeling right now. He was shocked to put it lightly. Shocked beyond comprehension…and yet there was a small part of his brain that spoke up, a small but definite part that told him there was a chance that this man could be lying.

Even if he was not prepared to learn more, he had to know one way or the other.

"I am…astounded," he finally answered, "how—how did this happen?"

"Well, much the same as any other family would start I guess, except for some minor differences and then some not so minor," he said nodding his head towards Henry. After a few seconds, Abe removed his hands from Henry's shoulders, "Are you ready for some tea now? This is your favorite set and I don't think you'll be happy if you find out you broke a few cups later."

Henry tried to pull himself together, "No I am okay," he said, receiving the cup of tea that was handed to him, "and I apologize…it's been a long day."

Abe nodded sympathetically, "I can imagine."

Henry took a shaky sip from the tea, hoping that it might aid in calming his nerves. He quirked an eyebrow when he realized that it was prepared perfectly to his liking. But then again, why should he be surprised? This man had apparently lived a great part of his life with Henry; he most likely knows more about him than just how he takes his tea. In fact he most definitely  _does_  know more about him considering his enlightenment towards Henry's biggest secret.

"You're my son?" he finally asked, breaking the small silence that had grown while they both tried their tea.

Abe placed his cup back on the table and leaned back in his chair, "Adopted son, but family just the same."

"I adopted you?" Henry asked, even though he was sure that Abe had brought him much joy over his life, him adopting a child did not seem like something he would do. He could remember a few days after he was liberated from the prison. He had been sitting at a dark and lonely tavern, fresh hair cut and a completely different pair of clothes compared to his old sophisticated look so as to avoid recognition by anyone he might run into.

He had many thoughts running through his mind that night; where he would go, how he would remain hidden from those who would be no doubt searching for him, how he was going to remove his savings from his estate, but in all these thoughts, he still thought of Nora and even though she had betrayed him, what they had both lost. They had a life planned together, they were going to live happily for years to come and they had even talked of raising children in the colonies before his life had changed forever.

Her betrayal still burned like a hot metal rod in his heart and would for a long time, but still he knew that he would always miss the life he had almost lived and the family he had been so close to having.

From that moment on, he had decided that he would not have children. It was just too dangerous for them and eventually him. He was not going to risk the life of his child when there was always the possibility that in a second, he could be recognized for what he was and the hunt would recommence. It was the most responsible and logical decision he could make when it came to having a family and just a traditional life.

He also needed to take into consideration that he had no idea of whether his condition had the ability to be passed on…there had just been too many unknowns.

He thought of all this now while looking at Abraham. Something must have happened to change his mind…then a truly startling thought came to his attention.

Eyes filled with a new urgency, he sat forward in his chair, "Do you have a mother?"

Abe nodded, completely calm compared to Henry's tense and uneasy demeanor, "Her name was Abigail and you loved her…we both did."

Henry saw the change in Abraham. It was as if whatever was going through his mind was enough to physically exhaust him. He could see how the man's shoulders slumped just a fraction and there was a sadness in his voice that Henry knew all too well.

He once again felt the urge to just walk away from this conversation, to lie down and enter a dreamless sleep where he would upon waking up in London and his familiar time period, realize that this was all just a bad dream.

But he knew better, no matter how much this felt like a dream that he would wake up from any second, this was his reality.

"What happened to her?" his voice was low and gravely and he couldn't help but feel surprised. He did not even remember this woman that he had apparently loved but still found it in him to miss her. It was strange; he was mourning the loss of a woman he had, for all intents and purposes, never met.

"I'm not quite sure. One day she was there, fussing over me and you like always and then the next day she was just gone," he said, pausing to take another sip of tea, "she left a note addressed to both of us and just like that was out of our lives."

Henry sighed; it seemed that there was more tragedy waiting for him every time he turned around.

"But enough about that. The important thing is that I'm your son and I know you're immortal…and that something happened to make you forget all that."

Henry nodded, Abe was right. They had more important things to be discussing right now.

"So I take it that no one besides you and I know of my condition?"

"Yes, but after today I can't help but see Jo figuring it out."

"I believe I managed to temporarily convince her that I simply have a very peculiar case of amnesia…which is similar enough to the truth," Henry said, "She gave me a day to work on my memories."

Abe smiled, "Ah, so that's what that was about. Figured there was a reason you turned white as a ghost after her ominous goodbye," he poured another cup of tea in both their cups and dumped in some sugar, "So you regain all your lost memories in a day…I'm sensing an 'or what' would be the appropriate follow up question."

He took a deep breath. Just thinking of the consequences of failure was enough to make him restless, "Or she takes me to a facility to be analyzed."

"That's tough," he allowed with a small shrug, "then again Jo was never one to fool around. Looks like we've got a lot of past to dig up."

Henry took another sip from his tea and nodded, pondering over everything he had just learned. Earlier today, he had thought that Jo was going to be his key guide and while that was definitely still a possibility considering the working factor, he could see a much more beneficial mentor sitting right in front of him. He decided that son or no son, this man knew more about him than anyone at the moment and with that he began to form a plan.

He looked back up at Abe and allowed the smallest of smiles to appear on his face, "Let's get to work."

* * *

 

Jo ducked under the yellow tape Mike was holding up for her, nodding her thanks. The crime scene was crowded, mostly with civilians trying to get a view of the alleyway but the cops were holding them back. She could see part of the body lying behind the dumpster, the other half covered by two men crouching down.

"Body was discovered around noon by a jogger. Looks like he was stabbed, weapon unknown."

She saw that one of the guys crouching over the body was Lucas, "What've you got, Lucas?"

He hastily turned around at the sound of her voice, "Um, I got a few samples from the wounds. It looks like he was stabbed repeatedly in the chest until the killer got him in the heart," he looked around the Detective, "Where's Henry?"

She caught Mike look at her from the corner of her eye too. They always left it up to her to call the M.E, but this time that wouldn't be happening. She followed her gut and guessed Henry didn't want news of his memory problems circulating the precinct, "He's taking a sick day."

"Really? Henry?" Lucas asked surprise evident on his face, "I don't think he's ever taken a sick day…I don't even think he's ever been sick!"

Jo shrugged and kept her eyes on the body. Did she really just lie to the two people who were most likely to see through it? A Detective and an assistant M.E? Well, in a normal situation, she wouldn't have counted Lucas, but he was assistant M.E. to the most observant man she knew. He was bound to pick something up from the guy after all these years of working with him. But lying was really the only choice she could see working, it would be what Henry would have wanted, she was sure of it. Besides, she didn't even know where to begin on explaining what was actually wrong with him.

So with a sip from her coffee, she tried to get everyone's attention back on the body, kneeling down to get a closer look, "Do we have anything else to go on?"

"His wallets empty, whoever did this left the credit cards though," Hanson informed her.

She sighed and looked at the bloody mess that was this poor guy's chest. It was horrible to think that he was killed just over something so small like a mugging, but that was how death was sometimes. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it and for the smallest of reasons.

She quickly stopped that train of thought. She knew exactly where those thoughts were headed but now wasn't the time, not while she was working. So she blocked her emotions and met Hanson's gaze, hoping her brief second of pain wasn't visible in her eyes, "So what do you think; crime of passion or mugging gone bad?"

Hanson shrugged, "Not sure, this guy got pretty beat up so I'm thinking maybe passion…but that's not all."

He pointed a pen over her shoulder and she turned around to face the faded brick wall of the alleyway. What she saw made her stomach do a small flip. On the wall, there was writing in what looked like blood—the victim's blood if she were to guess on it—in a language she couldn't read. It looked a little bit like Latin…

"Immortalis est in nobis. Semper vigilo," Hanson sounded out, the Latin mixing horribly with his Brooklyn accent, "It's a shame the Doc got sick 'cause I'm pretty sure we just landed his dream case."

Jo had to agree, the timing  _was_  horrible. She was sure that if Henry had been here in full health, they would already have the message translated and a bunch of theories complete with lectures being handed to them with a charming smile.

She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the message on the wall, they would get it translated back at the precinct.

All of a sudden Lucas made his presence known again with a bright smile, "Guess what I just found?" he held up something with a pair of tweezers and squinted at it in the light. "This looks a lot like skin…maybe this guy got in a few hits before going down?" he said hopefully, looking between the two Detectives.

Jo smiled and gave Lucas a light slap on the back. She was glad the guy was finally getting the hang of field work. He at least seemed a little more at ease and now thanks to him they had something to go on.

"Let's get back to the precinct." She said. The sooner they could get a match on the skin, the closer they were to solving the case and the closer she was to getting back to Henry.

She shifted her way back through the crowd of people and back to her car, her mind stuck on her partner.

It was the weirdest thing she had ever heard of. Someone getting amnesia and believing they were from the 1800s…it was hard to even picture.

But besides the strange illness, what was even weirder was how Henry and Abe were reacting to the situation. Henry with his random fear of Doctors—something she had never noticed about him before—and Abe's behavior after Henry had told him about London.

The man had practically been panicking; she didn't mention anything but she had definitely noticed his change in color at hearing the last thing Henry remembered.

She couldn't think of why though. Sure Henry's amnesia was odd and she can only imagine how painful considering how long the two have known each other, but there was something about the whole situation that was giving her a strange feeling.

She stopped at a red light and took a quick swig from her coffee, smiling around the lid. Of course  _that_  would be what she ultimately thought was strange about the whole thing. Being friends with Henry was really dulling her reactions to weird situations.

She was also worried about whether or not she was making the right decision concerning him and the Doctors. He had made her promise not to take him anywhere and the last thing she wanted to do was betray his trust at a time like this, but what if her actions now caused him harm later on?

She knew better than anyone that sometimes we don't always know what's best for us…no matter how much she wanted to be there for Henry, she didn't want to be the one who ultimately screwed him in the end.

She jumped when a loud horn sounded from somewhere behind her and looked up to see the green light staring down at her. She hastily stepped on the gas, the car lurching with her quick take off. She had to get her mind off Henry. They agreed he would have a day…now she just had to wait that day out. Decisions on what to do could wait that long, right?

Well they were going to have to because while he had a guaranteed few days off,  _she_  still had a murder to solve and without the help of her trusty M.E.

She parked her car, finally arriving at the precinct, and made her way in. She saw Hanson's car a few spaces away and shook her head. Mike had always driven way too fast to be considered safe and  _legal_  for that matter.

But as she got to her desk, she saw the pros to him arriving earlier as he walked over to meet her, paper in hand.

"Just got the message translated! It's a little rough but it says something along the lines of this."

He held out the piece of paper he was holding to her and she took it, unfolded it, and looked inside.

_There is an immortal among us. Always vigilant._

She looked up from the paper, meeting Mike's eyes and she knew what he was thinking…the same thing she was thinking.

"Looks like we got another crazy on our hands."

It looked like they did and she was  _not_  looking forward to it. These cases never seemed to end well for anyone involved and this was beginning to spiral in that messy ending direction.

At least they had the message translated, even if it didn't make sense in the slightest. Now they just had to wait for the DNA match in the system.

She sat down at her desk, thinking of what to do next. She thought of calling the shop and checking up on Henry, but maybe that wouldn't be the best idea. She didn't want to interrupt the important conversation he was most likely having with Abe right now.

Looking at her computer, another idea struck her.

She quickly turned on the computer and typed in  _'Amnesia_   _symptoms'_  on Google, clicking on the first site she saw.

She read over the obvious symptoms, marking that Henry seemed to have most of them, but didn't see the one she was looking for.

Where a victim might believe he was from a different time period...okay well not that exact wording, but something similar.

She kept scrolling through the page, re-reading to make sure she didn't miss anything. One sentence caught her attention,

_Recent memories are most likely to be lost, while more remote or deeply ingrained memories may be spared. Someone may recall experiences from childhood or know the names of past presidents, but not be able to name the current president or remember what month it is or what was for breakfast._

That sounded like Henry, but something about it made her frown. Deeply ingrained memories may be spared…someone may recall experiences from childhood…

All of a sudden, the phone's shrill ringing sounded beside her, making her jump from her slouched position in front of the computer screen. She tried to casually shake off the not so subtle jump as a move for the phone and with a quick glance around her, picked up the cell phone, "Detective Martinez."

" _Hello, Detective,"_  a deep voice greeted her.

"Who is this?" she prompted when the other line went quiet.

" _A_   _friend_ ," he answered and immediately a bad feeling grew in her stomach. She was about to demand some real information when the man spoke again.

" _I was just wondering how the good Doctor was doing, memory loss can be difficult to cope with."_

She froze, but her mind was reeling, all else forgotten as she focused on this new piece of information. Was this one of the guys responsible for what happened to Henry? But how would they know about the amnesia?

Unless…

A cold feeling ran through her and then she remembered she had a voice.

"What did you do to him?" she asked in a lowered voice, giving another glance around the busy room to make sure no one was in hearing distance.

" _I believe a better question you should be asking is why."_

"Listen to me," she warned, "you're going to tell me what you did and why and maybe you'll be able to avoid ten years," she threatened but immediately regretted the words. She didn't want to scare the guy off.

" _Believe me, jail is the least of my worries and please, send the Doctor my condolences."_

And then the line went dead. She spent a few seconds wondering what the hell all this meant and then immediately looked at the number, writing it down on a sticky note.

She was going to find this bastard, but first she had to check on Henry.

"Hanson!" she yelled, grabbing the other Detective's attention along with half of the room's from across the precinct, "I need you to get this number checked out."

"Where'd you get it?" Hanson asked, grabbing the sticky note from her finger while she hastily shoved her coat on.

"I'll tell you later, just get it checked and call me when you have a name," but Hanson didn't look convinced. "This might have something to do with the case," she added in and he nodded, eyes trusting.

Grabbing her keys, she gave him a quick 'thanks' and practically ran out of the building, jumping back in her car and pulling out into the street.

If that guy was the one or one of the one's responsible for what happened to Henry and he knew about what happened afterwards, then he might be watching the shop.

She thought about Henry and Abe and the possibility of some psychopath standing outside their door, bidding his time. It made her heart stutter in fear.

But if one thing was clear now, she knew it wasn't an accident. Someone had deliberately done this to Henry and by the sound of it, they weren't done with him. She breathed in a deep breath and stepped on the gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's probably clear that I do not know Latin and Google translate was a very useful tool. Hopefully it makes sense to anyone who may know the language (props to you!) and if not then I apologize:)
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you read it?" Jo's gentle voice interrupted his moment of dread.
> 
> "Yes," the single word escaped as a whisper. He did not think he could afford to say anything else. His throat felt as if it were closing in the terror he felt at the words. The walls of the antiques shop slowly closing in on him.
> 
> "It's a warning about an immortal, right?"

Henry rubbed his forehead, head in his hands. For the last two hours, he had been listening to Abe, doing his best to commit everything he heard to memory.

But what he heard was hard to believe.

All of the things Abe had been telling him he has done with the Detective…solving murders, saving lives…it was a life he could never have pictured in a million years, let alone two hundred.

And it continued to get stranger.

A man plaguing him like no other, toying with him as if he were a child. A man just like him.

_Immortal._

Yes, he found it very hard to believe indeed.

He was pulled out of his thoughts and into the present by his son continuing his story from where he left off, supper in hand.

"So like I was saying, the killer ended up being Oliver—the boss, not that surprising really," Abe said placing a platter with two pieces of bread in front of him.

Henry stared at it. Upon further inspection, he saw that there was meat and cheese inside, the edges sliced perfectly. With a start, he realized he recognized what this was.

"A sandwich?"

Abe looked up from where he was spreading mustard on a piece of bread, "Yeah, you love sandwiches."

Henry looked down at the offending piece of fare Abe introduced as  _food_ and couldn't keep the grimace off his face.

Abe scoffed, "What, sandwiches not your thing back in the day?"

"No, rather sandwiches were considered food for less than elegant events that I very rarely saw," in fact his Mother had never let him even touch the food as a child. Sandwiches were usually only eaten by beaten drunks in lowly taverns, the kind of places he usually associated similarly to the prison he was once locked up in.

A horrid place fit for such horrid food indeed.

"Is that your way of saying you've never had a sandwich before?"

Henry nodded, "They are not considered the most polite of foods."

Abe rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Henry, eat the sandwich and quit being such a pansy. If you don't want to stick out like a sore thumb, you need to act like everyone else."

Henry sighed and grabbed the wretched food. Starring at it, he knew Abe was right, if he wanted to relearn how to remain inconspicuous, he'd have to allow room for some changes. Closing his eyes, he took a painful bite.

"Well?" Abe asked him, an amused smile on his face.

Henry savored the taste on his tongue, thought carefully and then offered his prospect, "It's acceptable, clearly an acquired taste but intriguing nonetheless."

"Good, now let's talk about what actually happened to you. Run me through the last thing you remember and not that 'London in 1816' crap, the exact memory."

Henry grimaced. He would be glad to tell Abe his last memory but it felt so distant from him, almost like he was looking through a dark tunnel, so narrow and long that he would never reach the end. He just knew that the year was 1816 and he could remember everything before that.

"I'm not sure, it is all so vague," he murmured but with a quick glance at Abe's furrowed brow and slight frown and he knew the man wanted more from him.

So he concentrated, he forced his brain to remember what that last memory might have been and just like earlier when he had tried to remember, the only thing he was met with was a suffocating darkness but he kept pushing, determined to win out against his own mind.

All of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his brain and he grunted mostly out of surprise than anything at the unexpected feeling.

"Are you okay?" Abe asked him, immediately concerned.

Henry rubbed the back of his head and nodded. The pain had faded but he could feel the ghost of it lingering there, "I am okay, just a slight headache."

The worried look didn't leave Abe's eyes as he watched Henry's every move like a hawk.

"Maybe we should leave remembering for later," Abe conceded, pointing a finger down at his sandwich, "now eat. I don't want you passing out from malnutrition or something."

Henry picked up the food and took another bite, despite the pain taking away a small amount of his appetite; he found that he was rather hungry and really, he believed his Mother must have exaggerated the horrors of sandwiches…in all honesty, they were not so bad.

As he reached for his tea cup, a loud banging sounded from the other room.

Abe frowned, "That's weird, I closed the shop…" he murmured as he stood up to peak around the corner.

"Oh God…"

"What?" Henry asked looking to see Abe's eyes widening.

"It's Jo."

"…And?" Henry said after a few seconds of wondering what was so bad about the Detective returning to warrant Abe's panic. She had said she would come back after all.

"She can't see you like this!" Abe waved a hand at Henry and that's when he remembered his attire wasn't exactly considered appropriate anymore.

"Go change, I'll stall!" he half whispered and as Henry quickly stood, eyes set on his quarters, Abe grabbed his arm, stopping him in place, "and this time just wear the whole suit from the hanger."

"Yes, alright," he allowed and practically ran towards his room.

When he reached the safety of the familiar four walls, he quickly ran to the closet and took out the first clothes he saw. Hastily shoving everything on in what he hoped was the right order, he could faintly hear Abe greeting the Detective.

Now with his breeches, shirt, and waistcoat on. He looked down to see what he was missing.

Boots! Or in this case,  _shoes_ , he corrected himself, hastily running back to the closet and grabbing the first pair he saw on the floor. He could hear the Detective asking for him in the other room and he paused, laces in hand.

He couldn't remember how to tie them! Shoes with laces were rarely worn by men of his stature in London and while he had known how to tie them at one point, the knowledge alluded him now.

Swearing, he just shoved the pieces of string into his shoes and went to the next unfamiliar piece of cloth he had avoided earlier. The neckpiece.

He strung it around his neck and…left it there, just hanging. He had no idea how it was supposed to be tied or what it was supposed to even look like.

He stood there in the middle of his room and panicked. Out of everything Abe had told him, he had forgotten to tell him how to get dressed in these infuriating clothes!

"Henry, you ready in there?" he heard Abe shout and gulped. He had no choice, he was just going to have to present himself like this.

He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly so at least he would look mentally composed, then left the safety of his room and walked into where Abe was standing with Jo amongst all the furniture.

"There you are, Henry," Abe said glancing at him but then did a double take, brows furrowing, "Um…"

Henry grabbed both ends of the silk and raised them, looking at Abe helplessly, "I couldn't tie them."

Abe sighed and beckoned Henry closer, grabbing hold of both ends Henry was holding out.

As Abe worked on tying the neckpiece for him, a quiet chuckle covered roughly by a quick cough brought his attention to where the Detective was standing, watching him with amusement.

As he met her eyes, she quickly schooled her features, clearing her throat and looking at a wooden closet standing next to her as if it were one of the most interesting things she's ever seen.

"Hello, Detective."

"Henry," she acknowledged Abe fixing his clothes, "still having memory problems I see?"

"On the contrary," Henry began, moving around Abe's arms in his way of speaking to the Detective, "I've remembered a great deal about other parts of my life."

"Yeah? Like what?" Jo challenged him.

"Well, I've been remembering some of the cases we've been on…flashes, but they're there," he told her, hoping she wouldn't make him recount any details. To be honest, everything Abe had told him had really become disarranged in his head. He couldn't remember which case came before the other, but either way, he had to make sure the Detective believed him.

"So you think you're memory's coming back?" she asked him again, sounding both surprised and maybe even a little hopeful.

His pause was short and almost unnoticeable, but he quickly caught himself and followed through with the plan he had formulated earlier.

"Yes," he lied, meeting her eyes.

She held his gaze for a couple seconds, the only interruptions being Abe stepping around him to right his clothing. Finally she smiled.

"Thank God," she sighed, clearly relieved.

And he sighed in relief as well. He met Abraham's eyes as he patted his chest, neckpiece finally tied and in the correct spot and received a wink and a small smile from the older man.

"There's something I need to tell you though."

They both looked at her then. Her voice had rapidly changed from relieved to tight and worried again and Henry knew that whatever news she had to inform them of was going to be bad.

"I was contacted by someone today who I think was involved with what happened to Henry," she told them, "he said he was a  _friend_ , wouldn't give me his name but we're working on his identity."

"What does this mean," Henry asked her after a few seconds of tense silence. Her terminology was very vague and kept confusing him. He didn't understand why people of this age could not just  _say_  exactly what they meant.

"It means we're one step closer to finding out who did this to you," she told him laying a hand on his arm, "but there's something else. I don't want to worry you guys, but I have a feeling he may be watching the shop."

"Why would you think that?" Abe asked brow furrowed.

"Because he knows that Henry has amnesia…plus he sounds like a total creep," she added in, "I didn't see anything outside, but you never know."

"Yeah, I'll keep a look out, thanks," Abe told her and then a silence fell over them, leaving Henry with the chance to contemplate this new bit of information the Detective had given him. He had not had much time to think on what actually had happened to him. His attention was too consumed with all the abnormalities and futuristic items as well as the information on his life to allow thought for much else. But now he became curious…what had happened to him?

Finally, Abe pointed towards the kitchen, "I'm going to get started on dinner, can I get you a drink, Detective?"

"No, I'm fine. I've got to get going actually," she turned towards Henry, "I just wanted to have a quick word with Henry."

Henry shot Abe a quick panicked glance before turning back to Jo, "It would be my honor, Detective."

She led him over to the couch standing against the wall, both sitting down on the soft material.

Henry stared at his hands resting in his lap for a couple seconds, waiting for Jo to say whatever she wanted to say. He was worried that she might have seen through his lie earlier…would she really confront him about it?

What if she was going to take him to a facility anyways?

But instead she asked him the question he least expected from her.

"Are you okay, Henry?" she asked him. "I know that this must all be very…weird."

He somehow found the humor to chuckle at her terminology, "For lack of a better word, this  _is_  very 'weird,' but I think I'm okay," he turned to look at her, her kind brown eyes searching his own and it made him wonder for what felt like the tenth time that day what his exact relationship with Jo was.

Why did she care how he was doing? And the way she spoke to him…genuine and understanding…definitely not something he was used to having with anyone since Nora—or at least the Nora he'd had before she betrayed him.

A small shudder ran through his body and he quickly corrected that last thought, he would never want to compare someone like Jo to Nora.

He was gathering the courage to ask Jo exactly what was on his mind when she spoke first.

"Do you have any questions? Or are you curious about something…your job? Your friends?" she asked him, "any blank spaces that I might be able to fill in?"

He felt like laughing again because  _everything_  was a blank space right now. Even though he knew the name of the place he was in, he still had no clue of where he was, there were strange devices and peculiar inventions everywhere he looked, he just found out he had a  _son_ …oh, and then there was Jo; a woman he had just met but who seemed to share a mysterious connection with him that no one seemed capable of explaining...not like he had asked anyone but still. He usually prided himself on his ability to solve a mystery through observation and a little logic alone but when it came to the Detective… he was stumped, much like he felt with the rest of the world he now found himself in.

So yes, he had questions and yes he wanted answers, but most of anything he wanted to ask Jo would involve revealing his secret. With a sigh he sorted through the vast pile of unknowns he had jumbled in his mind to search for a question she may be able to answer for him.

He settled on asking her about his work. A little more details on what he did each day and what was expected of him would be nice to know, maybe he could even prepare. Then he remembered where the Detective went off to this morning and where he would have followed had he been well enough.

"How was work today? From what I hear, my job crosses paths with yours almost daily."

A frown fell on Jo's face and Henry thought that maybe he had asked the wrong question. It didn't appear that she was going to answer him and he found he was thankful he hadn't asked his previous question if she was going to react like this, but it would seem she was only caught off guard or maybe had less than pleasant thoughts overrunning her mind…

"A guy was murdered, stabbed in the chest multiple times."

His eyes widened. Apparently his last thought had more truth than he had anticipated, "My God! Do you have the man who did it?"

She shook her head, "No, but he left us a message in Latin," after a second of hesitation, she pulled out her phone, "here, I took a picture of the scene."

He looked at her in confusion. What in the world was a picture?

He was about to ask her as much when she handed him her phone and Henry had no choice but to cradle it carefully in his hands, staring down at it with wide eyes. It was much lighter than he'd thought it'd be and it was warm. The small rectangle was actually giving off  _heat_!

He resisted the urge to turn the device over and examine it properly from every angle, instead looking to where the light was shining out of the device and what he assumed was the reason she had given him the device in the first place.

With a start, he realized that he was seeing an image of writing on a brick wall, but the image didn't look like a painting…it looked like he was actually looking at the wall with his own two eyes.

It was bright and clear and he couldn't help but marvel at its existence for longer than he should have. Or at least long enough for Jo to worry.

"What is it, Henry?"

Henry jumped again, suddenly remembering she was still there beside him, "Oh, nothing…it's just I've never seen anything like this before."

"What, the message?"

"No, a picture," he murmured before he realized what he was saying. Because of course she needed another reminder that he could not remember anything, at the same time giving her a not so subtle push towards his secret.

He was going to have to learn how to hold his tongue around this woman. Anything she asked, he seemed only too ready and eager to respond to. Something that will definitely get him into trouble if he did not keep in check.

She took his comment in stride though and reassured, he squinted and read the Latin written on the wall, once again feeling incredibly grateful Latin had been a required language in order to become a Doctor at Edinburgh. But when he translated the message, his stomach dropped.

"Can you read it?" Jo's gentle voice interrupted his moment of dread.

"Yes," the single word escaped as a whisper. He did not think he could afford to say anything else. His throat felt as if it were closing in the terror he felt at the words. The walls of the antiques shop slowly closing in on him.

"It's a warning about an immortal, right?"

He turned to stare at her, eyes wide and thoughts frozen. Did she know? Was this her way of telling him she knew? He searched her expression for anything letting on that she knew about him, about what he was, but could not find anything.

Her warm hand squeezing his brought him back from his rapidly spiraling thoughts.

"What's wrong, Henry? Is it a memory?"

"I—no, it's just—," he paused to gather his thoughts with a sigh, "do you know why this was written or who wrote it?"

"Well presumably the murderer but that's all we know. There really wasn't much to go on at the scene," she suddenly smiled, "That's what you're there for, you take one look at the body and immediately have a theory and a detailed description of a suspect all ready for us."

He just nodded, not completely sure on how to respond to her comment, when all of a sudden, the phone his hands began to shake and he nearly dropped it in shock.

"Whoa, Henry. It's just a text message," Jo cautioned him and he saw a small box drop over the image of the Latin with a sentence, quickly reading it as Jo leaned closer.

_HANSON_

_Hey, got the ID on that number back. Name's Tyler Jones. And get this, same ID at crime scene._

"Oh my God," Jo whispered.

"What is it?" Henry asked after a few beats of frustrating silence. He felt like he was always one step behind in this time period and he was really beginning to hate it.

"Tyler Jones. He was the murderer from the crime scene…"

Henry put together the sentence she left trailing, "That's perfect is it not? You've found the murderer."

"Yeah, except he's the same guy who called asking about you."

The words took a few seconds to sink in but when they did, they hit him like a ton of bricks. The phone tumbled out of his cold grip and he barely noticed when the Detective caught it before it could hit the floor. He was too busy consumed in his own personal nightmare to realize much else of what was happening around him. All the bits and pieces Jo had just told him were starting to come together to create a truly frightening image in his head. The man who had stolen his memories had just murdered someone today.

The thought was quickly filling him with a cold dread that left his fingers feeling numb and lightheaded and that was when the guilt creeped in with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

What if that man had been murdered because of him?

It was all too much.

It was too much for him to learn in one day. Too many emotions running rampant in his body right now and it left him feeling exhausted and with a thirst for something that might just numb those feelings.

"Can you call Abe?" he finally spoke to the Detective and the way she looked at him suggested she had been trapped in her own thoughts as well.

"Why, are you feeling sick?" she asked him, hand immediately going to his forehead to test his temperature.

The gesture made him give a small wry smile and he shook his head. "I think we are in need of that drink."

* * *

When that drink Henry desperately sought for finally arrived, he was severely disappointed to find water in the place of what he hoped was going to ease his nerves.

As it turned out, he was banned from drinking alcohol for the time being.

And wasn't that just horrible timing considering now would be high time for some mind-numbing indulgence.

He had already let so many aspects of his own will go—primary example would be his clothes—that he really did not want to budge when it came to his alcohol intake.

He attempted to persuade his son, but was even more chastised when the Detective agreed with Abe.

Henry sighed. No alcohol it was then.

Sipping from his water, he was surprised to find that it managed to calm him if only slightly, successful in taking his mind off the guilt that was slowly making itself at home in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn't enough.

He all of a sudden felt an urge to do something, to act against the murderer who had done this to him until the guilt dissipated completely. He turned towards Jo then, a strange form of anticipation making itself known to him.

"What can I do?"

Jo raised a questioning eyebrow, obviously caught off guard, "What do you mean?"

"I want to help, how can I help?" he explained quickly, the need for clarification making him frustrated.

"I'm not sure you can help right now, at least not like this," she gestured vaguely at him as if she were commenting on his clothes but he knew what she was referring to.

He was in no condition to go try solving murders.

But for this murder case he may be useful even without his memories. The way he saw it, he was going to have to try and figure out what had happened to him one way or another. If this Tyler Jones was truly the one responsible for his amnesia, then what better way to solve this mystery than with the Detective here to help? He most certainly would not be able to do it by himself.

Ever since that unfortunate day where he had received his curse, his life had always been split into two parts; the professional side where he was Dr. Henry Morgan, completely mortal and pure gentleman, and then there was the personal side where he was Dr. Henry Morgan, the immortal who had to keep all aspects of his true self a secret from everyone he met. This was where he would need a guide besides Abe to help him through the other part of his life because it appeared that right now, the two parts of his life had just crashed together.

Besides, he could help. He knew he could, he just needed to look past everything unfamiliar to him…which was everything.

Deciding to ignore that last thought, he stood up from the couch and started pacing back and forth in front of Jo. It would seem he was going to have to prove his usefulness to this case.

"You said the man was stabbed multiple times, correct?" he asked her but before she had a chance to reply continued on, "it would seem that the killer had some emotional conflict or attachment to the man, either good or bad, maybe both. That would explain why he was stabbed fatally over and over again compared to just one stab that would have sufficed in the man's death," he worked through the situation in his thoughts, still pacing. The action at least made him feel like he was doing more than just talking. "Had the man been robbed?"

She was watching him warily, but looked intrigued nonetheless, "Yeah, his cash was taken but identification and credit cards were all there."

"Well I cannot speak for the credit cards, but because his money was stolen while the rest was left behind, we now know that this murder was most likely not an impulsive act of violence from a family member—or at least one would hope a person wouldn't kill a member of the family then take their money," he said mostly to himself. He had seen acts of violence in many forms working as a Doctor but whenever murder was involved between members of the same family, it never ceased to make him feel depressed.

He pulled himself out of that thought and continued his investigation, "Finally, we approach the message," pausing, he took a quick deep breath in an attempt to prepare him for what he was going to say next. It was definitely harder to lie when he knew Jo was now hanging on to every word he said, but he had to continue, "ravings of an immortal…I may be having memory trouble, Detective, but even to me, this sounds insane."

He kept his back turned to her as he waited for her response. If she believed him, then he had no doubt that she would allow him to help her further with more than just guesses to fuel the investigation. But if she didn't believe him…he was definitely going to need that drink just to calm his frantic nerves.

"Hmm," Jo murmured and Henry's curiosity got the better of him. He turned to find her staring down at her own water glass contemplatively.

"Well, Henry," she quirked her eyebrows and a small smirk lifted one side of her mouth, "I must say I'm impressed. Guess a few lost memories aren't enough to hold Sherlock down, right?"

He released a breath he hadn't even known he had been holding and smiled back, meeting her warm brown eyes, "Yes."

The simple answer was enough to satisfy them both and just as silence began to fall over the two of them, Jo's ringing phone rang out into the large room.

She tore her eyes from his and rose to answer the phone.

Henry could only listen as he heard one side of the broken conversation until the Detective turned back to him, an urgent look reaching her face.

"That was Hanson; we just found a connection to Jones and the victim. He was his psychologist."

Henry nodded even though he didn't really understand what a psychologist was. It didn't matter though because they had their connection.

Jo began to shove her coat on roughly and as he watched, looked at him expectantly, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get your coat."

And in that moment if it wouldn't have been considered extremely inappropriate, he would have laughed in victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! And thanks for any comments or kudos, support means the world! :D  
> Until next time...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfolding the paper, he began to read the thick, black scrawl, his interest and curiosity slowly transitioning to dread at the few words written there.
> 
> I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.
> 
> The tips of his fingers turned white as he gripped the paper so hard it made his hands shake and he looked around him, searching each corner on both streets for any clue pointing towards the writer of this letter.
> 
> But all he saw was darkness and then he realized that there, standing in this strange and unfamiliar world, he had never felt more lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> First off, sorry for the delay. It's been a busy month filled with laptop and wifi issues, but finally everything is sorta settled down...hopefully. But anyways, thanks so much for the comments and kudos, you guys are awesome!   
> Please enjoy:D

“I don’t think you should be doing this yet!”

Henry sighed and pulled Abe farther away from Jo. He couldn’t have her hearing Abe’s displeasure at where she was going to take him, she might change her mind.

“Abraham, for the last time, we are simply going to my center of employment to formulate a series of theories, that’s all!” he explained, feeling quite exasperated from the whole situation.

“That’s the problem; you’re going to a precinct filled with cops and most importantly _Detectives_ who are all going to figure out very easily you think you’re from the 1800s.”

Henry gave a slight shrug, “Well I am from the 1800s…1700s to be precise—”

Abraham cut him off with a stern look but when Henry tensed, he softened a bit, “Look, Henry. I just want you to be okay.”

 Henry tried to hide the surprise he felt by Abe’s confession. In subtle reminders, Henry was seeing that Abraham _was_ in fact his son. Not to mean that Henry had not believed him before, it’s just that further evidence proving the impossible was enough to dispel any lingering doubts left in his mind.

It had been a long time since he had anyone he could call family looking out for him. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, but he found he rather liked it the more he felt it.

“Nothing will happen, I have the Detective to help me, remember?” he attempted to reassure Abe.

As if on cue, Jo reminded the two of her presence by quietly clearing her throat.

“Henry? Sorry, but we have to go. Unless you’ve changed your mind—”

“No! I’m coming!” Henry interrupted her. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity on preventing any more murders. Even though he was completely exhausted from his strange day, just the thought of maybe stopping someone else from getting hurt at his own fault was enough to motivate his legs to start moving and his displeasure at once again needing to ride in the car dissipate slightly.

He remembered to pull the strap of material which the Detective referred to as a ‘seat belt’ over his body and into the holster until he heard a satisfying click and leaned his head back against the cushioned seat.

The Detective caused for the car to come alive and then they were off, subtle vibrations of both the machine as well as the ground making its way up his body as they traveled over smooth road. Peering out the window, he was vaguely surprised to see the sun was beginning to set over all the gigantic buildings and with a glance at his pocket watch, saw that it was nearing six o’ clock.

“Do you always work such strange hours?” he suddenly asked Jo.

She kept her eyes trained on the road before her as she answered, “Only if it’s busy which it usually is. Sometimes we have to eat dinner at our desks which is fine with me but you,” she glanced at him quickly with a smile on her face, “not so much.”

“We eat dinner together?” he wondered out loud, peering at her curiously.

Jo shrugged, “Again it depends on how busy it is but yeah. I grab some take out and you scavenge up whatever fancy stuff you can. Sometimes Abe even brings you dinner from home if you call beforehand.”

Henry grimaced, “Am I really that much of a bother?”

Jo laughed lightly, “I’m sure I’m going to regret not answering yes to that question later but no, he insists on bringing it if it’s already made.”

He stopped asking questions then; not wanting her to tire of them and the conversation dwindled as they faced what she had referred to earlier as ‘traffic’ and gazed out at a large body of water to the right of the car. He realized it was the same body of water he had reappeared in this morning, when this nightmare all began. But he felt calmed if only slightly to find that even here in this strange place, the sky was a constant familiar presence.

The large sun was almost cut in half by the clean, sharp lines of the water, causing for the sky and clouds to turn a pleasant array of pink and orange shades above them. He sighed as he looked at the sunset.

This was his favorite time of the day, the moment’s right before a day’s events would end and the silent darkness of night would take over. The beautiful blue sky being replaced by an equally beautiful if not mesmerizing starry night never ceased to amaze him. The world was filled with such opposites, each taking their turn on when to take control and rule, the moments in between acting as a medium of peace. It made him wonder why civilization could not act in a similar fashion. Then again, what did he know? Perhaps it did.

He felt the Detective’s eyes on him and met her curious gaze.

“What are you looking at?” she inquired, now able to fully look at him as they were stopped in traffic.

“Just remarking on the beauty of the world,” he said nodding in the direction of the sunset over the water.

“You can’t deny that view,” she sighed, “I’ve always loved sunsets.”

He looked at her, quirking an eyebrow at the words that mirrored his own thoughts so similarly and found he could not look away. Whatever light was left of the sun was shining on her, making subtle tones of her dark hair to stand out and shimmer. He lost himself in trying to categorize all the different shades of brown that were present in her hair when she turned to look at him.

Her eyes were also shining brightly at him from the evening sunlight making him notice for the first time how hazel they were. At first glance appearing brown but with sunlight, green streaks stretching from her pupil to the outer edges of the retina became visible and he found it hard to believe he hadn’t seen them before.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent staring into her eyes. They took on a surprised glint as she stared back but he could see the curiosity that lay just below the surface, covering the other feelings and emotions he was actually searching for.

All of a sudden, the loud sounding of a horn coming from directly behind them jolted him out of his search and she broke their gaze, turning back towards the road.

Soon multiple horns started sounding and she cursed, stepping on the gas to speed them on their way and catch up with the car in front of her.

“Just how many noises can this infernal contraption make?” he commented over the annoying noise.

“Way too many,” she answered him, just as equally annoyed.

He sensed the time for questions was past, so he gazed out the window in silence for the duration of the drive, all the while trying to get his mind off the warm feeling that had grown in the pit of his stomach from looking in her eyes.

When they stepped out of the car and into the building he had been in earlier, she began to give him instructions.

“We’re only going to be here for a few hours. I’ll be taking you home so you can get some rest right after you take a look at what we’ve found so far,” she told him, waiting for his nod of agreement before continuing on.

“Also, I told everyone earlier that you were sick so if anyone asks, just go along with it.”

He looked at her in surprise, “You didn’t tell anyone about my condition?” he asked, ignoring the terminology he used and how easily it could mean something else in different context.

 “I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I? Or was that just for the Doctor’s,” she considered it for a few seconds before shrugging, “close enough. You’re really reserved so I assumed you wouldn’t want word of this getting around just yet.”

“Thank you,” he tried to convey his gratitude through the two words the best he could. The less people that knew of his memory problems, the better. Especially now that the one who assumedly was responsible for it was a murderer in their investigation. He most certainly did not want that kind of attention now or anytime really.

“Do more watching if this doesn’t seem familiar, I want to ease you back in to this as best I can,” she whispered to him as they neared a group of people.

A man that looked similar to his own age with dark, combed back hair and wearing clothes similar to his seemed to catch sight of them. His striking green eyes lit up in a way that conveyed his amusement and he tapped on the shoulder of the boy that had been in his office earlier, making him turn around.

“Look who decided to show up and help solve a murder!” The man teased.

Henry fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt as he began to feel more nervous. He didn’t know the names of anyone here besides…Lucas was it?

Just as he was thinking that perhaps he should have listened to Abe because this was a sure way to draw attention to himself, Jo leaned close again to whisper in his ear.

“The guy in the suit is Hanson and the younger one next to him is Lucas,” she discreetly confirmed his thoughts and he smiled, glad to have her by his side.

“Came as quickly as we could,” Jo replied smoothly, “Henry was feeling better so I dropped by to pick him up.”

The man named Hanson clapped him on the shoulder when he was near enough and began to lead him towards the two metal slabs that opened into the small, moving closet he had been in earlier.

“Glad you’re feeling better, Doc. Just do me a favor and don’t pass it around,” Hanson said with a smile, “God help us if my kids get sick again.”

“If only it were that simple,” he murmured to himself and tried not to hold his breath as the doors closed in front of him again.

Upon opening, he was met with the sight of a body, rather fresh looking, lying on a table a little ways away from them.

Lucas practically ran over to stand on the other side of the body as the rest of the group caught up, Henry taking up the rear. He had seen some rather gruesome things in his short time as a Doctor but he had never seen murder before. It was a sight that left him feeling horrified.

He looked up to see Lucas watching him expectantly, as if waiting for him to make a declaration or speech but he found he was speechless. Not sure of what to say beyond commenting on the horrors of whoever was responsible for the many wounds on this man’s chest that left intestines, ripped tissue, and other organs hanging out.

“What else have you found, Lucas?” Jo once again saved him from needing to reply and Lucas’ gaze flickered off him and over to the Detective, seemingly confused.

“Not much more, I was waiting for Henry to open him up,” he explained, eyes flickering back to him once again, “and since he missed the crime scene, I figured he’d want to see the body the way it was.”

Then all eyes were on him.

“Well, Doc? What’s the verdict?” Hanson asked after a short pause.

Henry considered his words but he once again did not know how to respond. He did not know what they wanted him to say, what was expected of him. So he settled on honesty, “I’m not quite sure.”

“Aren’t you gonna examine him or do an autopsy or something?”

“I already am examining him,” Henry replied, the terminology confusing him. Then before he could stop the question, his insatiable search for knowledge gained control of his mouth before his brain could stop it once again, “what is an autopsy?”

 But apparently that was the wrong thing to say as he saw Lucas’ jaw drop down in shock and Hanson’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline, his head tilted his way slightly as if he had heard wrong.

Those reactions were never good.

He glanced at Jo. If she was not worried then he wouldn’t be but if she was worried…

She was definitely worried, she looked like she was midway through wincing and was biting her bottom lip a little too hard. It made him want to tell her to stop before she drew blood.

He felt his eyes widen as he stared at Jo, but then he saw her expression change. It went from worried—maybe even horrified—to a look of deep concentration. She must have seen the pure panic Henry knew was radiating out of his eyes right now and in this moment, was incredibly grateful someone knew him well enough to be able to read his emotions so well and care enough to actually attempt to help him.

But when she all of a sudden burst out laughing, he wasn’t completely sure he _wanted_ her help.

Both men looked over at the source of the loud and unexpected sound when she kept chuckling, confusion taking over the shock and disbelief.

“That’s a new one!” she gasped out, finally quieting down but a wild smile still on her face.

“I’m not getting the joke here,” Hanson stated followed with affirmation from Lucas.

“Oh! I guess you guys wouldn’t know,” she began, mirth in her eyes and now Henry really wanted to know as well. He barely noticed when he learned forward slightly along with the other two men left in the dark beside him.

“Henry had a Dentist’s appointment today for some fillings and,” she paused in her explanation to give him an apologetic look, “sorry Henry, but it turns out he’s deathly afraid of Doctor’s and stuff, so they had to put him out,” she gave another chuckle and this time Lucas couldn’t help but join in a little, “he’s been pretty out of it since then, you should’ve heard some of the things he’s been telling Abe and I. I thought he was finally sobered up but I guess some lingered.”

Hanson finally joined in with a few snickers, “You seriously came to work high, Doc?”

Henry barely noticed when Hanson asked him a question, he was too busy letting the relief flood through him after the fear that Jo may come clean about his problem. Her apology had thrown him off, she was quite truly a wonderful actress, but then he realized Hanson had been speaking to him.

“Yes, quite high,” he replied with a small smile, guessing and hoping from the context that this was the right answer.

All three of them bursting into real laughter at the same time reassured him that yes, that had been the right answer.

“Oh man, Doc. That is quite possibly the funniest thing I ever thought I’d hear in a morgue!” Hanson gasped out, doubled over from the force of his laughter and Henry decided that he really was going to need to ask Jo what it meant to be ‘high’ because whatever it was, it seemed to be causing everyone great joy at his expense.

“Wait, wait,” Lucas all of a sudden spread his hands in front of him as if he were physically attempting to stop the others from laughing, “so you’re a Doctor, but you’ve got a phobia of Doctors…how does that work?”

The others continued to laugh and Henry just shook his head, looking down at his shoes. He tried not to think of the actual reason for that fear and kept his smile placed firmly on his face. The last thing he needed was to open his mouth again.

Feeling eyes on him, Henry looked up to find Lucas squinting at him, “Yup, he’s definitely still on something. A comment like that would’ve gotten me the evil eye in a second!”

So it appeared that Henry had a different relationship with Lucas, one that seemed to revolve more around mentor and pupil than equal partnership like his and Jo’s.

 “Alright, Henry,” Jo interrupted the snickers of the others to grab his arm, “Let’s get out of here before you say something you may seriously regret later.”

He nodded to her, silently agreeing with the truth in her words but Hanson was not ready to let them leave so quickly.

“Hey! Wait up, Jo, we’ve still got a couple details that need clarifying about this murder.”

 Henry felt Jo’s hand clench harder around his arm and with a glance at her hardened expression, knew whatever details that needed to be explained were not exactly ideal.

“Like what?”

“Like how you got that phone number?” Hanson asked.

Now it was Henry’s turn to go tense. He did not completely understand everything that was happening but he was fairly certain Hanson’s question was connected to the phone call Jo had received about him.

“I was called earlier from that number, it must have been Jones,” Jo admitted after a short silence.

“Why did he call you, what did he say?” Hanson plunged on curiously.

Henry cringed and looked at Jo standing beside him. His secret was once again in the palm of her hand and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how many times he was going to have to trust her not to reveal his connections to this murder.

“Just more immortal crap like from the wall,” Jo calmly said, “he was very vague and everything sounded like a riddle…I don’t know why he called me though. Maybe he saw me at the crime scene, who knows?”

“Maybe…” Hanson speculated then shook his head and waved his hand at them, “alright Jo, you better get the Doc out of here, he looks like he’s about ready to pass out. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

“See you later, Henry! Drink plenty of water and get a lot of sleep, we’re gonna need you tomorrow!” Lucas half teased, half seriously instructed him and then the Detective pulled him straight out of the morgue.

She didn’t let go of him until they were upstairs and she only did so to grab a few pieces of what looked like paper off her desk. They got in her car and the first few minutes of the ride passed in silence.

Finally, he couldn’t take the quiet anymore and he turned to face her in his seat, “Thank you, Jo, for everything. I realize the sacrifice you are making by lying to your friends on my behalf and would like to assure you that you will not need to for much longer. I plan on regaining my memories as quickly as possible.”

Jo gave a small roll of her eyes, “I don’t think this is really something you can control but it’s okay, I promised to keep your memory problems a secret and I like to keep my promises…besides, they’re your friends too, Henry.”

Henry let what she said roll through his mind. The thought of having friends in itself was too strange to consider for long. This age seemed to be just full of surprises.

 “To be honest, I’m surprised I got away with that,” she laughed, “I was pretty sure Hanson was going to call me out after the whole Dentist thing.”

“Yes, you were quite the brilliant actress,” Henry told her, giving her a smile that she caught with a glance, “but speaking of that, what does it mean to be ‘high,’” he asked, feeling the word roll off his tongue. It sounded strange.

Jo chuckled again, more like a giggle really, the sound light and full of mirth at his words only succeeding in increasing his curiosity.

“Sorry, it’s just the way you say it, you sound hilarious!”  He raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to regain her composure, “its slang for what happens when you take drugs, usually recreational.”

“Ah,” Henry supplied, no wonder the others had found it so amusing, “I am not even going to ask why I would leave a Dentist intoxicated.”

Jo looked confused, “But—” then she seemed to realize something, “Oh. I guess anesthesia wouldn’t have been invented yet.”

Another unfamiliar word and another reminder to the bizarre aspects of his memory loss. He would file the new word away to ask Abe about later, he felt as if one more futuristic reveal would result in his brain exploding. It already felt filled to the brim as it was. 

“How much do you remember…from the 1800s,” Jo suddenly asked him and he couldn’t help but immediately go rigid in his seat.

“What do you mean?”

“Your childhood, do you remember any of it?”

The car was quiet again as Henry considered her question.

He had to answer, he just _had_ to. She had already done so much for him in just this day alone that he could not bear to force another lie past his lips again.

He stared down at his hands resting in his lap as he formed a quick story. He would tell her the truth as a pay of respects and thanks, but not everything.

“I do,” he finally said into the darkness of the car, “I remember my Mother, my siblings, my studies...many of the things I trust you recall about your own childhood.”

“Except mine isn’t set two hundred years ago…” she trailed off, seemingly deep in thought, “What did they do to you, Henry? What could they have done to make you believe something so impossible?”

It sounded less like she was talking to him and more like she was talking to herself as she drove, him sitting silently in his seat beside her.

In all honesty, he had no idea, but he planned to find out soon. Now that he knew his memory loss may be connected to murder, he was even more avid to figure out what happened to him and stop the man responsible.

The rest of the ride passed in a silent blur while he was immersed in his own head and in what seemed like no time at all, Jo stopped the car in front of the antique shop. The surrounding night turning peaceful as the car was turned off with a final rumble. He stayed in his seat, just considering all that this day had brought him and what lay ahead. He felt a little dazed just thinking about it all.   

A quiet sigh was heard beside him and then an idea struck him. He turned in his seat to face the Detective, “Would you like to stay for dinner?” he let an inviting smile pull at his lips when she met his eyes, “I’m sure Abraham would love your company and I would hate to send you away on an empty stomach.”

She smiled and for a second, it looked like she was going to say yes, he found he was _hoping_ she would say yes. Even though it would open him up for more analysis and questions he could not answer, he felt the time wasn’t right to part ways just yet.

But then she looked away, glancing at the time and sighed, “Thanks, but I better get home. Busy day tomorrow and all.”

“Of course, yes,” Henry quickly supplied, silently berating himself. For all he knew, she had a family waiting for her at home. Others who needed and wanted her attention more than he deserved.

He got out but before closing the door, leaned back in, “Goodnight, Detective.”

“Goodnight, Henry,” she answered and with that he closed the door and watched her speed away into the night.

 With a silent shake of his head, he turned around to open the door to the shop. He didn’t get far however, as a crinkling sound coming from under his foot stopped him in his tracks.

Looking down, he saw a white envelope laying beneath his shoe.

Curiosity peaking as to what the mysterious envelope was, he reached down to pick it up, noticing there was no name or address on either side.

Opening the sealed flap revealed a piece of yellowed parchment lying inside which he pulled out with interest. He didn’t know why he was opening the letter, it most likely belonged to Abraham and he was being utterly rude by searching through the man’s personal belongings but…what if the letter had been his?

Unfolding the paper, he began to read the thick, black scrawl, his interest and curiosity slowly transitioning to dread at the few words written there.

_I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE._

The tips of his fingers turned white as he gripped the paper so hard it made his hands shake and he looked around him, searching each corner on both streets for any clue pointing towards the writer of this letter.

But all he saw was darkness and then he realized that there, standing in this strange and unfamiliar world, he had never felt more lost.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wonder what’s wrong with Henry,” Lewis murmured, still watching the spot where he had disappeared. There was something unidentifiable in his eyes, but she brushed it off. Now was not the time to be trying and figure out what the man was thinking, she had to focus on getting down to the bottom of Henry’s symptoms.
> 
> “He hasn’t been feeling well since yesterday, he probably just went to get some air,” she told him, glad to see the therapist’s attention turn back to her for the time being. She raised the folder with Jones’ profile in her hands, “thanks for the info on Jones, but I had just one more question.”
> 
> Lewis relaxed back into his seat and motioned with one hand for her to continue, “By all means, Detective.”
> 
> Jo hesitated for a second and tried not to let any guilt fill her about what she was about to do. Henry was sick and she was doing this for him, against his will but still for his well-being. After only a second more of hesitation, Jo started talking, “Have you ever heard of a case where someone loses their memories of half their life?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!   
> Got a new chapter up, this one's completely in Jo's POV and just a fair warning, this chapter is very long! I think this is the longest chapter I've ever uploaded so...not sure whether that's a good thing or bad thing, but here it is:D
> 
> And I would like to thank everyone who has left kudos and commented. You guys mean the world!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this look into Jo's side of things :)

Jo reached out blindly for her phone, feeling along her nightstand in search of the familiar rectangle so she could press snooze and stop the annoying noise.

Her fingertips finally finding the infuriating device that was vibrating like a fiend, she shut off the alarm and laid back down in bed, folding her arms on top of her head in an attempt to calm the headache that was already starting to come in waves.

She had fifteen minutes to get ready for work, giving her just enough time to throw on some clothes and maybe even a little bit of make up so she could look professional. Breakfast was unfortunately out of the question. She’d just get some of the coffee at the precinct, it was crappy but better compared to nothing.

Sighing, she got out of bed and began getting ready. Of course, it took all of five minutes for her mind to get away from the confines of sleep and go back to Henry.

Everything that had happened yesterday all came crashing back to her along with a pulse of pain from her new headache that wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Henry had been targeted. He had been on the receiving end of some lunatic’s sick game. And as a result, he now believed he was from the 1800s.

None of this was new information to her though, she had found out about all of this yesterday, had time to let it settle in her head…but something still didn’t sit right with her. What was strange was that Henry was still Henry and yet…he wasn’t.

If anyone were to look at him, they wouldn’t see anything different about him. He was still the same old Henry, dressing and speaking as if he had just stumbled out of a British time machine. But she saw the difference. There was something in his eyes…something missing. It was as if he had lost his confidence and all of his reassurances.

 She almost wanted to say that he looked younger, like there was a weight only brought on by seeing too much in the world that was lifted, leaving in place the confusion and insecurities that came with having reality crash down on you before you’re ready.

But no, it had to just be the confusion from seeing a world he didn’t believe existed. That was the only clear explanation for why he had a constant look that almost bordered fear. But as for the sudden disappearance of the weight of the world on his shoulders, she couldn’t answer yet.

What had Henry forgotten that all of a sudden left him lighter? What had happened to him in his relatively short life of thirty-something years that could leave such a scar? Of course there were plenty of things that could happen but none of them seemed to fit Henry.

It was a mystery that she had yet to solve and now given the circumstances, hoped she would still have a chance at solving. She shook her head to rid her mind of those pessimistic thoughts.

Henry was getting better, his memories were coming back. She didn’t know how well and in what order, but they were coming back, he had said so himself.

She grabbed her wallet and keys off the coffee table and walked outside into the biting cold weather, walking as fast as she could to her car before the cold was able to get past her clothes.

She quickly sat in her car and slammed her door, starting the engine and letting it warm up a bit before taking off.

As she waited, another question entered her mind.

Would Henry be ready to go into work today? She had only allowed him to come yesterday because he had practically begged her to. She had seen the desperate look in his eyes and couldn’t just leave him with the knowledge that a murderer may be responsible for his amnesia.

Besides, his spew of knowledge—while not quite at the level that it usually was—was still impressive given the circumstances and at the time, she couldn’t find an actual good reason for why he _shouldn’t_ come.

Of course, she hadn’t factored in Henry asking Hanson and Lucas and pretty much the whole rest of his morgue what an autopsy was.

She quickly stopped that line of thinking before she really got worked up on the stupidity of it all and put the car in drive.

She would stop by the antique shop to see how Henry was feeling. If he was still in the helping mood then she would let him come with a lot more explicit instruction on what to do and say. If he didn’t want to come—which she found to be very unlikely—then she would just keep him updated from home with more pictures.

She smiled, he seemed to like those. Thinking back to yesterday and the look on Henry’s face when she’d handed him her phone made her chuckle quietly to herself in the car. His jaw had practically dropped! She should totally be recording his reactions to stuff like this to show him when he came back to normal, whether he’d appreciate it or not.

Thinking about yesterday made her remember that moment in the car when the sun was setting and she had practically gotten trapped in Henry’s surprisingly strong gaze. The sky had been a beautiful mix of colors that, coupled with the intensity of Henry’s stare, would take the blame for why she had spent so much time just staring into his curious brown eyes and doing her best to ignore the butterflies that had all of a sudden appeared in her stomach.

Looking back on it, the moment had been extremely cheesy, bordering on Hollywood drama cheesy and to top it all off, it had been with _Henry_ of all people! But there had been something in his eyes that she had never seen before, making her feel like he was seeing right through her and all her defenses when he looked at her and she couldn’t help it, she was curious too.

She came to a stop outside the antiques shop and quickly got out, knocking on the door that still had the closed sign faced towards her. When she stood huddled in the cold longer than she would have liked, she knocked again a little harder this time and glanced around the inside of the shop. Finally, she saw Abe appear from around the corner, quickly walking towards her and letting her in.

She practically ran inside once the door was opened enough and sighed when she felt the warmth of the shop.

“I’m sorry,” Abe told her, wincing slightly at her reaction, “I didn’t hear you. We’ve been having shower issues all morning.”

She nodded and folded her arms across her chest to help hide her shivers, “Pipe trouble?”

Abe snorted, “More like Henry trouble,” he said and before she could reply, a yell from the hallway that was getting closer and closer captivated their attention.

“Abraham! I did it! I believe I have finally discovered how a shower works!”

Then before Jo even had time to interpret what it is she had just heard, Henry stormed into the room soaking wet and wearing nothing but a white towel, his usual wild grin alighted on his face and hair flat against his forehead.

Jo felt her jaw drop a little and quickly tried to right it before Henry noticed, but the man seemed completely unaware of her presence, his excited gaze focused solely on Abe.

“By turning the nozzle you unleash a force, which combined with the water pressure—” Abe coughed, rather loudly too, interrupting Henry’s rapid flow of explanation before he could really get started, “What is it, Abraham?” Henry asked and that’s when his eyes flickered over to where Jo stood.    

Henry stopped talking, his mouth opened but then closed as if he was at a loss for words, something Jo had almost never seen from the man.

She raised a hand to give a small wave and somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that she wasn’t shivering anymore, she was actually feeling the exact opposite of cold right now.

“Detective,” Henry tucked the ends of his towel a little tighter around his waist, “What a pleasant surprise… Had a good night’s rest I trust?”

It took her a few seconds to answer his question, “Uh, yeah, it was fine…you?”

“Fine as well,” Henry said shifting his weight from foot to foot. She found she was struggling to keep her eyes up, his glimmering chest and prominent scar attracting her gaze and that was when Jo gave herself a mental slap; it was time to focus on why she was here.

Quickly fixing her posture to her usual tall, confident stand, she tried to regain some professionalism, “Are you feeling up to a little murder solving today? Maybe help jump start your memories?”

At her words, Henry’s expression immediately lit up, embarrassment slipping away.

“I would be delighted to come along, Detective,” he said with a courteous tilt of his head and seemingly forgetting for a second that he was wearing only a towel and was soaking wet, he turned to face Abe, his eyes asking a silent question.

Abe held his stern expression for all of two seconds as he studied Henry but it was obvious when he broke, “Alright, alright,” he allowed, “now go dry off. You’re getting water all over my mid-eighteenth century Chippendale collection!”

Henry had the audacity to laugh and spread his arms out on either side of him, “Abraham! I am nowhere _near_ your beloved Chippendale!”

“One can never be too careful,” Abe warned, “now really, get out of here. Do you even realize you’re half-naked right now?”

Henry smiled and held up his hands, offering a subtle nod in her direction, “My apologies, Madam,” and as he lifted his head from what had become a rather low nod, she could’ve sworn she saw him wink at her. She quirked an eyebrow, but before she could determine what it is she actually saw, he was gone, disappearing around the corner again and leaving Jo wondering what the hell just happened.

Abe turned to look at her, a peaceful smile resting on his face and God; she hoped her cheeks weren’t red. They didn’t feel hot but then again, the wink had really thrown her off.

“I see you two have bonded,” she commented, nodding in the direction that Henry had disappeared to just to get Abe’s studious gaze off her.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised where six hours of storytelling will get you,” Abe laughed, “but really, I think he’s coming to terms with what he does and doesn’t remember. Right now he’s just ready to start learning as much as he can about his life.”

Jo nodded, “Has he remembered anything else?” she asked, watching Abe’s reaction closely.

And just like yesterday, there was a moment where Abe faltered. Most of the humor that had just been so clear in his eyes disappeared, leaving a guarded expression that reminded Jo so much of Henry it was scary.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted and Jo believed him, “but these things take time, Jo. It’s not going to be an overnight fix.”

“I know,” she answered and she did, she did know this wasn’t going to be an easy fix, but for some reason, the disappointment still flooded through her at his words. Maybe if he had just remembered one small detail, she would’ve felt a little more reassured she was doing the right thing here.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Henry reappearing into the room, now completely dried off and dressed in his usual fancy suit. He almost looked completely like the normal Henry too except for his hair, it was parted differently. Making his wet curls which were pushed off to the side fall into his face slightly.

“I’m ready,” he said, pulling on the lapels of his suit jacket for emphasis.

Abe quickly jumped in, “Not yet,” he shoved a hand through Henry’s hair, pushing the unruly set of curls back and off his forehead, “curls don’t go that way anymore, Henry.”

Henry ran a hand through his hair a little self-consciously, brow pushed down and furrowed, “I see.”

And if Jo hadn’t already laughed at the man enough in the past 24 hours, she would’ve laughed now. Abe’s knowledge of what was ‘in’ and Henry’s dejected expression was just too much. She had to get them moving if she didn’t want a rogue giggle to escape her, and wouldn’t that just completely ruin the whole professional thing she had going today.

“Alright, Henry. Let’s get going.”

And there was that blinding smile again. Geez, how could a guy who in actuality, had no clue where and who he was with, look so damn happy all the time. Not to mention the early hour of the day. Glancing down at the time on her phone, it almost made her jealous because if there was one thing she knew about herself without a doubt, it was that she was _not_ a morning person.

With one final pat on the shoulder, Abe let Henry go and she was once again braving the cold weather of the ironically sunny day except this time, she wasn’t the only one who would be shivering.

She turned on the car and cranked the heat up as high as it would go, taking a couple seconds to just let her hands warm up in the hot air.

Looking over, she saw Henry staring at the vents curiously, his eyes going in between her own actions and the source itself.

“Its heat, put your hands in it,” she instructed him and was glad to see him comply a lot faster than he would have yesterday.

“Well that’s convenient,” he mumbled while putting his hands in front of the vents.

“Just another perk to living in the 21st century.”

Putting the car into drive, she caught Henry look over at her from the corner of her eye.

“Tell me, what other ‘perks’ are there to living in the 21st century?” he asked her.

She took a few seconds to ponder over his question. Yesterday he would barely even touch the subject of his bizarre memories or lack thereof actually, only acknowledging it when absolutely necessary like at the morgue. But now, that edginess seemed to be gone as he lightly asked her questions she could never have seen her answering in her wildest dreams. She felt like she had made a lot more headway with him overnight than she ever believed she would even with the normal Henry.

“Well, we have planes, we have cars, we have computers….the list could go on for days.”

She heard Henry hum in contemplation, “I know what cars and computers are, but planes I have yet to learn of.”

Of course he didn’t know about them. She sighed, knowing full well she was about to blow his mind yet again, “Right, well, a plane is pretty much like a car except instead of transporting on land, it transports in the sky.”

She was met with silence and sneaking a glance over at him, she saw he was slowly nodding.

“Are you saying that there are giant chunks of metal flying over our heads as we speak, each carrying a small amount of people?”

“No, there are giant chunks of metal flying over us carrying a _large_ amount of people,” she said, watching his reaction as best she could while still paying attention to the road.

But he was taking it surprisingly well. Just nodding along like she was confirming some kind of previous knowledge he had.

“Interesting… Is that the strange noise I have been hearing all day?”

“If it came from the sky then yes,” she told him and couldn’t help but smile when she caught his eyes widen as the impact finally hit him. He leaned closer to the window and she could see him casting glances upwards.

Knowing that soon enough, he would see what he was looking for, she waited in silence. Finally, after only thirty seconds, the unmistakable chopping sound of a helicopter flew over them and she could practically feel the awe radiating off of him as the copter came into full view from the windshield.

When the helicopter finally became concealed by the many skyscrapers she heard Henry chuckle a little breathlessly.

“I feel like I am in _L’An 2440_.”

“Excuse me?”

“A novel taking place in Paris, in the year 2440,” he asked incredulously but when she continued to give him blank glances, he continued, “it tells the story of a man who falls asleep one day in the 1700s and wakes up in a very distant future to find much has changed from the life he once knew. He finds himself in much the very same situation I am in now…different, more comfortable clothes, strange new inventions, a progressed society,” he shook his head in wonderment, “If I had only known when reading that novel so many years ago…”

She left him to his thoughts, even though questions were burning inside of her. Not serious questions, but just curiosity raised by this small piece of information he had revealed to her. What year had he read that novel? Had he read it as a child, maybe during one of his studies he had mentioned last night?

But she didn’t voice any of these questions out loud. He had become so much more comfortable around her than he had been last night, she didn’t want to put him on guard again with more questions from his hazy past in a different time period. It all of a sudden hit her that maybe not everything he remembered was actually factual. Maybe some of his memories were just as fake as the mindset created for him.

It was a troubling thought that she tried not to dwell on too much. She couldn’t start questioning the authenticity of his memories because then they’d really be screwed, not knowing what was real and what was all part of some strange hallucination forced inside his head.

So instead of asking the questions she wanted to ask, she settled on a more harmless section.

“You think our society has progressed?” she asked, knowing it had but wanting to hear his thoughts on it.

“In certain ways, yes. Your laws for example, seem to have much more levity and from what I have seen science has definitely progressed.”

“Wouldn’t that tie in with inventions?” she asked him.

There was a short pause before he continued, slowly but surely, “Not necessarily, there are other forms of science…ones yet to have any visible proof of their success but had still been used on humans,” he almost seemed to shudder, “terrible practices.”

There was something in his voice that hadn’t been there before, a lower tremor that made her believe his line of thoughts was leading somewhere emotional.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she commented, making a sharp left into the precinct parking lot.

She was met with a tense silence and glancing over, saw Henry looking straight forward, eyes cast downward. So much for harmless. Even without trying, she still managed to scare Henry off. At least they were already at the precinct so he would have to snap out of it, but it nagged somewhere in the back of her mind that Henry’s silence spoke louder than words in terms of answering her question.

She pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine, letting the silence that followed resonate a bit longer than she normally allowed. Then she turned to Henry, “Okay, to avoid what happened yesterday from happening again, we’re going to be working very closely today,” he nodded but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t looking at her and his eyes seemed far away…she knew that look. Funny how some things never change. “By close I mean you won’t be leaving my side, got that?”

Her stern tone must have registered somewhere as Henry finally looked up at her, “Of course.”

She nodded in satisfaction and pulled her coat tighter, “Let’s go.”

It was a brisk walk to get inside the building, each anxious to reach the warmth of the office quickly. When they finally did, Jo led Henry right to her desk, motioning for him to sit down in the closest unoccupied seat.

But just as she was removing her coat to hang off the back of her chair, she caught Hanson making a beeline for her desk, a bunch of white papers unceremoniously stuffed into a folder in his hands.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Jo,” he shoved the folder into her hand, all uncharacteristically energetic which she was going to put on one too many cups of coffee, “Just got the order from Reece. She wants you to go down to Bellevue and talk to the victim’s coworkers and anyone who may have treated Jones while we wait for the court order,” he noticed Henry then, sitting quietly in his seat and looking like he was trying to disappear into the woodwork, “Hey, Doc,” he greeted, then turning back towards Jo, jerked a thumb in his direction, “You should probably take him too. God knows how twisty Psychiatrists can get.”

Jo sighed and pulled her coat back on, “I’m on it, just let Lucas know Henry’s with me so he’s not waiting for him on a project or anything.”

Hanson nodded, already eyeing the elevator that would lead down to the morgue. So it was going to be one of those days then. The kind of days where the only time she could sit down was in the car and during interviews, maybe while eating a quick dinner if she’s lucky.

She made her way back towards her car again, Henry following close behind.

“Are we by any chance going to a psychiatric hospital?” he asked her.

“Yeah, Bellevue ring any bells?” she quickly unlocked her car and started it up for the third time in the past hour and a half.

“Should it?” Henry’s muffled voice came from the other side as he got in.

“Well you did see a psychiatrist there.”

He sat down and buckled in, his brow furrowed and a frown marring his features, “Oh.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums up your reaction from last time as well,” she remarked with a small smile and gripped his arm, trying to offer a little bit of reassurance, “Don’t worry, this visit will have nothing to do with you,” he instantly relaxed into her touch, arm muscles going slack in her grip and she felt a stab of both surprise and satisfaction at having that effect on him.

She indulged herself for a few seconds more before removing her hand and placing it firmly back on the wheel. The contact was nothing new; they always seemed to exchange gentle touches here and there to reassure one another. But this time it felt different, a subtle change in the air that made her not want to move her hand away and she couldn’t help but think that maybe that was because Henry took the gesture differently. After all, he wasn’t exactly the same Henry from before…for all she knew, he might still be trying to figure out their friendship.

But if there was one thing she did know, it was that their friendship would be remaining just that. It was too soon for her and from what Henry had told her about Abigail, much too soon for him as well even if he couldn’t remember. Somehow, she was going to have to find a way to communicate that to Henry without making it super awkward if she was wrong.

Giving a light sigh, she pulled out of the parking lot and straight into receiving traffic on their way towards the hospital. She would find a way to tell him, just not now.

The rest of the car ride passed in relative silence which Jo found a bit unnerving considering Henry’s tendency to chatter. But she just chalked it up to his nerves at having to enter a hospital. She knew by now how skittish he was with anything medical related he wasn’t in control of and so with that in mind, she led Henry into Bellevue, looking through the folder Hanson had handed her to try and find something useful to use during their interviews.

She was about to step up to the front desk and check in when an idea suddenly struck her.

“Henry, you remember the name of that psychiatrist you saw here?” she was met with a blank stare and almost did a face palm, “What am I thinking, of course you don’t.”

She walked up to talk to the police officer seated behind the counter. She knew the guys first name, maybe she could get the rest through description, “Detective Martinez,” she flashed her badge at the guard, “I need to speak to a Therapist by the name of Lewis, he’s British. Could you tell me what room number his office is?”

The man stared at her blankly for a few seconds, “Lewis, Lewis,” he mumbled to himself while clacking away at his computer. “You mean Lewis Farber? I’m sorry, Detective, but he’s been on an extended leave for two weeks now. A return date hasn’t been listed.”

Jo silently cursed. He could’ve easily given him Jones’ medical file a lot quicker than having to wait for a court order.

“Oh, wait a minute, you’re in luck,” the guard interrupted her thoughts with a smile, “It says here that Dr. Farber just checked in this morning. Guess he’s back from his vacation. Room number is 34B, first floor.”

Jo smiled, “Thanks.”

She and Henry navigated quickly through the halls, searching for Lewis’ office. Jo knew for the most part where she was going based off of memory from the last time they had visited the therapist. However, this visit would be under completely different circumstances.

It suddenly occurred to her that bringing Henry to talk with Dr. Farber might be a terrible idea. The man was a therapist and had already had a session with Henry. What if he noticed Henry’s memory loss?

She panicked for all of a minute before she decided that maybe a professional _accidentally_ finding out about Henry’s strange case of amnesia and the details involved with his case wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Besides, from what she had seen of the therapist, he seemed to be fond of Henry and trustworthy enough…if he were to catch onto Henry’s problem, she was pretty positive nothing but good would come out of it. 

 And with that final thought, she brought her fist up to knock on his door, smiling at the bright and chipper man standing on the other side.

“Detective,” he asked with delight, “what a pleasant surprise,” he stood off to the side and motioned with an arm for them to enter, “and Henry! My, it _has_ been a while hasn’t it?

Jo took a seat in the big comfy chairs sitting in front of the therapist’s desk and watched Henry do the same, albeit much more nervously.

Looking at Henry now, she could swear she’d never seen him look tenser…and they had been in some pretty tense situations together. For what felt like the hundredth time, she found herself wishing she could unravel the mystery that was Henry Morgan and learn what it was that had him so on edge about these facilities. But deep down she knew better. Henry wouldn’t be letting her in unless he wanted her in.

“Yes, it has,” Henry finally murmured, “It’s good to see you again, Dr. Farber.”

Lewis seemed to stare at Henry a bit longer than was necessary and Jo thought that he must definitely be noticing Henry’s bizarre behavior—probably marking it down somewhere for future reference—but instead of remarking on Henry’s nervousness, he just chuckled and sat down behind his desk.

“Likewise,” he folded his hands together in front of him and leaned forward onto his desk, “now, what can I help you two with?” 

“We were wondering if you had any information on a patient recently receiving treatment here,” she slid Jones’ profile sheet across the desk, “his name is Tyler Jones.”

Lewis picked up the sheet and after putting on his glasses, frowned at what he saw.

“Hmm, yes. A very troubling case indeed,” he glanced up from the sheet to look between Jo and Henry, “I take it you would like a viewing of his medical file?”

Jo smiled. Finally it looked like they would be getting somewhere, “That would be amazing.”

Lewis nodded and immediately turned toward his computer, the sound of his fingers rapidly clacking at the keys filling the silence as they waited.

From the corner of her eye, terse movement caught her attention and glancing over; Jo noticed Henry’s position in his seat. He still hadn’t relaxed…actually, from what she could see; his body was even tenser than before and now she thought that maybe it wasn’t just because he was nervous.

He was leaning heavily on the back and side of the chair, elbow on the armrest and his hand pressing into the side of his head slightly. His entire form was completely rigid and she could see his face was turning a sickly pale. A light sheen of sweat could be seen glimmering off his forehead in the bright, natural light let in by the large windows and he had his eyes tightly shut.

The slouched position was so far from Henry’s usual proper posture that it alone was enough to alarm her. She was about to ask him what was wrong when Dr. Farber spoke.

“Tyler Jones, first seen on October 16th 2013 per request from his employment. He was exhibiting signs of a nervous breakdown thought to be caused by the sudden death of his father and the added stress from his daily life. However, he wasn’t admitted until nearly a year later when he began to exhibit psychopathic tendencies and was dropping signs that there were …‘non-humans’ existing in our society during his sessions. From there, I’m afraid it only gets worse,” Lewis shook his head and sighed, “Once he was forced to undergo treatment for his symptoms, he began raving of immortals hidden among the human race and how they must all be destroyed—”

A low groan suddenly interrupted Lewis and Jo looked to where the sound had come from. She was alarmed to see that Henry had his head in his hands and looked as if he were about to be sick right there in the middle of Lewis’ office. Now instead of slouching back against the seat, he was slouching forward, hunched over his lap.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” she asked him, doing her best to resist the urge to move his hands from covering his face and settled on squeezing his shoulder instead.

At her touch, Henry raised his head from his hands to give her a fleeting glance, “It’s nothing, just feeling  a bit ill,” he paused and swallowed hard. Whatever this was, Jo had never seen Henry look so off and she immediately knew that ‘ _feeling ill_ ’ was an understatement.

“What are you feeling, Henry?” Dr. Farber asked, clearly concerned for Henry as well but there was an undertone of curiosity in his voice. One that Jo chalked up to him being a Therapist.

At the sound of Lewis’ voice, she could’ve sworn she saw a small tremor run through Henry’s body and in one fluid motion he was up and out of his seat.

“Excuse me,” he murmured voice strained and eyes looking anywhere but at them and then he quickly left the office, disappearing into the hallway.

Jo couldn’t help the worry that assaulted her at seeing Henry leave the office. She had no idea where he was going and what was wrong but something told her that it had to do with his amnesia.        

Standing out of her chair as well, she was about to chase after him when an idea struck her. She quickly sat back down again, turning back to face Lewis. Here, sitting in front of her, was a professional that she felt she could trust. She would be an absolute idiot not to take advantage of the situation while she had him here all alone.

“I wonder what’s wrong with Henry,” Lewis murmured, still watching the spot where he had disappeared. There was something unidentifiable in his eyes, but she brushed it off. Now was not the time to be trying and figure out what the man was thinking, she had to focus on getting down to the bottom of Henry’s symptoms.

“He hasn’t been feeling well since yesterday, he probably just went to get some air,” she told him, glad to see the therapist’s attention turn back to her for the time being. She raised the folder with Jones’ profile in her hands, “thanks for the info on Jones, but I had just one more question.”

Lewis relaxed back into his seat and motioned with one hand for her to continue, “By all means, Detective.”

Jo hesitated for a second and tried not to let any guilt fill her about what she was about to do. Henry was sick and she was doing this for him, against his will but still for his well-being. After only a second more of hesitation, Jo started talking, “Have you ever heard of a case where someone loses their memories of half their life?”

She wasn’t completely sure how to say the next part out loud, so she stopped there, keeping things slow. Just buying more time to take a deep breath and assure herself that what she was about to say couldn’t be all that crazy if Henry was actually going through it.

“Of course, amnesia can present itself in many different forms and with many different side effects.”

Jo nodded, staring down at her hands resting in her lap. Here goes nothing. She met Lewis’ eyes with conviction, “What about a side effect that leaves someone believing they’re from the 1800s?”

 Lewis’ brow pushed down in what looked like a mix of confusion and contemplation at her words, a frown marring his features, “The 1800s?” he murmured more to himself than to her, “Well, I can’t say misplacement in time is all that common, but I have heard of it before.”

“You have,” it came out as a mix between a statement and a question, but either way, Jo felt completely relieved that Lewis believed her and had some knowledge on this and she didn’t have to convince him anymore. She released a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding and tried to choose which question should be asked next in the sea of raging curiosity flooding her brain.

But Lewis beat her to it.

“Cases where patients believe they are from a different time period or from a life that is not deemed possible can be dangerous, Jo. I must ask, are we speaking of anyone in particular?”

Jo froze. The relief that had just been so freely spreading through her system was now replaced with something close to dread. She could see it in Dr. Farber’s eyes, this was serious and by the looks of it, had serious consequences.

She considered telling him that they were talking about Henry, but decided to wait to hear more of what he knew before she revealed that the patient with these symptoms was in the building as they speak.

“No. I was just going through a cold case and found that one of the people involved developed this a few years after the crime,” the lie smoothly came from her lips, “I was wondering what may have caused it and how it could be resolved.”

Lewis continued to peg her with his intense stare, but she didn’t waver. After a few seconds, it seemed he believed her but the caution never quite left his eyes, “It’s unknown what can cause this…I’ve only ever seen it in person once and the patient unfortunately never regained their right state of mind,” he paused, seemingly collecting his thoughts, “I cannot emphasize enough the incredible precariousness of this situation. If you know anyone who may be suffering from this, you need to bring them in to be analyzed. If we can catch it in time, the permanent effects may be reversible.”

Jo slowly stood up out of her chair. Now would be a good time to go check on Henry before Dr. Farber caught on to who it was they were talking about. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but what she did know was that she would no longer be making this decision alone. She was going to find Henry and take him home, and then she was going to explain the situation to Abe and insist that they do what’s best for Henry no matter what the man says. There would be some resistance and she knew there would be, she knew she was giving Henry further reason not to trust her besides what he already had and it hurt that she would be betraying him like this, but the risks were far greater and she couldn’t have that on her conscience.

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Farber,” she started making her way to the door but paused, her hand on the door knob when Lewis spoke.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better, Detective… _if_ it gets better. Remember that,” he warned and after a short pause, she forced her legs to start moving.

She had to find Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Not too long, right? ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading guys and hope you liked it. Next chapter will be from Henry's POV and there will be whump...just sayin'


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One particular pulse of pain came with a bout of nausea that brought him down to a knee with a deep groan, arms curled around his stomach and upper body leaning over them in an attempt to offer some relief. His body had none to give though and through the long pulses of pain that held no end in sight, it crossed his tortured mind that maybe there was a way to stop this.
> 
> He could kill himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> As promised, here's the new chapter with Henry's POV once again. It's a bit shorter but, it just felt right to end it where it ended:)   
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos. Your kind words and support mean the world to me. I'd be lost without you guys! :D
> 
> Now serious.  
> WARNING!  
> Thoughts/attempted suicide and graphic description of death will follow, so if that's a trigger for anyone, I would advise that you don't read. But then again it's Henry right? So he doesn't actually stay dead...either way, please don't read if this hits a personal note for anyone. Also, there's a lot of Henry whump in this chapter...pretty much the whole chapter really. But that's not really a warning, just saying :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy:D

Henry broke through the door of the empty bathroom and slammed it shut, enclosing himself in the small room.

Another wave of pain washed over him and he fell back against the door with a crash, unable to stop a small whimper from escaping his lips. The back of his head hit the hard material with a thunk. He had no idea what was happening to him, where this pain was coming from, but he did know that it was excruciating and soon he was finding it hard to stand.

Wave after wave of pain starting from the back of his head and spreading throughout hit him in rapid succession and he stumbled to the sink hanging in the middle of the wall, his chest heaving.

 Placing his hands on either side of the cold porcelain to brace himself, he peered into the mirror, hoping to see some physical symptom to explain his pain but the only thing he saw were his tortured dark eyes staring back at him.

What was he going to do? How could he make this pain stop? He tried to think, to figure out a solution to this situation that had appeared out of nowhere but each time he tried to concentrate, a new pulse of pain passed through his brain leaving him just as lost—if not more lost—than before. He switched plans, maybe thinking back to the pain’s origins would be more useful.

It had all started when he had met that damned therapist. Seeing the man and hearing his voice…something had seemed uncomfortably familiar about him, but of course, his brain became blank when he tried to pursue it. The feeling of familiarity had prodded and poked in the back of his mind until he could no longer stand the unease and he _had_ to try and remember what this man was to him. What was so different about him that his memory was trying to bring his attention to him and not his friends or even his own son?

So he pursued the single thread that was teasing his mind and that was when the pain began. It was small and only slightly uncomfortable at first—feeling like a gentle tickle in the back of his brain—so he had found it easy to ignore, thinking nothing of it in the beginning. However, the more he tried to remember, the more the pain increased and so he heeded the warning his body was giving and stopped his ruthless pursuit for the memory.

It had been his assumption that the pain would slowly fade and disappear like how the pain from relieving pressure on a wound would. He had thought it would go away like it had in the kitchen sitting with Abraham the day prior had.

He was wrong.                 

The pain continued to increase like it was warning him of something bigger, something important…or like it was reacting to something else that was warning him.

Either way, whenever the therapist spoke, it seemed that the pain would increase until it reached the point where he could no longer sit up straight and his skin grew so hot he could practically feel the perspiration form from every sweat duct on his body.

And then the man had to go on and talk about _immortals_. That had been the final blow that had sent him toppling over the edge. He could not stay quiet anymore and seemingly against his will, a groan had escaped his lips.

Although the small pressure Jo had given his shoulder was reassuring, it had not been enough to make the pain go away, nor was it enough to make him forget it. But still, strong resolve had spread through him. He could not let Jo know what was wrong…he could not let _anyone_ know what was wrong. Not when he did not even have an inkling of what was wrong himself. There was no way for him to explain, no sense for why this was happening and for that reason, he was going to keep silent.

He had removed his head from his hands—the pressure he had been applying to help relieve the pain had not helped in the slightest anyways—and reassured Jo that he was fine with a quick glance her way, not wanting her to see the pain he knew was so clearly showing in his eyes.

Then the therapist spoke to him and the pain increased to the point where it had almost brought tears to his eyes. He knew then that he had to leave, he had to escape. There was too much attention focused on him and his actions and he realized that under their continued scrutiny, he would not be able to hide his symptoms for long.

And so he had left and practically ran down the hall, ignoring the strange looks he had gotten from passerby’s and searching for the first vacant room that had a door to close. That room had taken form in the single employee’s bathroom he now was hiding in.

His pain was connected to the therapist. That much he knew without a doubt. But how he was going to stop it was another question all together and one that he had no answer to.

One particular pulse of pain came with a bout of nausea that brought him down to a knee with a deep groan, arms curled around his stomach and upper body leaning over them in an attempt to offer some relief. His body had none to give though and through the long pulses of pain that held no end in sight, it crossed his tortured mind that maybe there was a way to stop this.

He could kill himself.

He could restart and set his body to the way it always was, vibrant with life and blissfully pain free.

 And that seemed to be the only thing he could focus on at the moment, how relieving it would feel when his mind would no longer be thrumming with this agony and he would finally actually be able to _think_. It would be like a breath of fresh of air…No; it would be infinitely more satisfying than that…it would be like a passage out of hell.

The more he thought about it and the more the pain continued to flare through his head, the more killing himself seemed like a brilliant idea that left him shocked he had not thought of it earlier. In fact, maybe this could even fix his memory loss as well.

Making up his mind in a split second that still felt much too drawn out, the only thing left to figure out now was how to do it. He quickly glanced around his surroundings, searching for anything that could be used, anything at all, but to his disappointment, the room was largely empty with only a toilet and a sink occupying space.

Then he had an idea.

Grabbing onto the edges of the sink to help him stand off his knees, he grabbed his handkerchief out of his suit pocket and stuffed it over the drain, being sure to cover all openings. He then proceeded to turn on the faucet at full pressure, mind oblivious to any possible consequences in this unstable state.

He was going to drown himself. He was going to drown himself in this tiny sink in this small bathroom and that was going to solve his problems.

It had to.

As the sink slowly began to fill almost lazily, he absentmindedly stuck his fingers into the water to test the temperature. It was too cold to his skin so he turned the nozzle until the water heated to a pleasant lukewarm.

Pausing in his actions, he removed his hand from the stream of water and back to firmly grip the edge of the sink. If he weren’t in such a desperate situation, he probably would have found humor in what he was doing. But if he was going to die in such a displeasing way, he was at least going to make it as comfortable as it could be.

But the small yet loud part of him that could never be fooled knew that the changing of the water temperature would not be making anything any better. Drowning had to be one of his least favorite ways to die. He did not know whether it was because he already knew the order of events which came with drowning or because there was something about breathing in a substance other than oxygen that was more displeasing compared to the other deaths he’s experienced…he just knew that drowning brought an innate fear to mind that wasn’t always experienced in his three years of immortality.

But he could remember it so clearly now, feeling the burn of the water as it entered past his nasal passages and down his throat into his lungs. Feeling his throat convulse as it attempted to swallow but then choked as the action only brought more water in. Then came the pure panic as the body was left with no other alternatives, with no way to escape the water that was everywhere, the substance so necessary for life that was now slowly killing him.

It felt like an eternity, an eternity where his chest felt like it was going to explode from lack of air, an eternity where his limbs would thrash without his mind really telling it to. But in reality, he knew it only lasted a few minutes at most.

He stared down at the sink filled to the brink with water. Just a few minutes until his vision would begin to blur then darken as his body slowed down to accept its fate. He could survive a few minutes…survive was the wrong word…he could _endure_ a few minutes and he would.

He couldn’t help but still hesitate though. Even though he knew he would return back to life straight afterwards, it was hard to stare death in the face and not flinch…especially when facing such a displeasing death that held no mystery to it at all.

But as another wave of pain engulfed him, he remembered his alternative and with one final deep breath and a quick  stutter of his heart, shoved his head deep into the water, effectively cutting off his sight and sound to the point where all he heard was the distorted noise of the water pounding into the sink.

He would make it quick. There would be no delays by attempting to hold his breath. He would just breathe as if he were breathing in air…

All of a sudden, he felt a pair of hands grab onto his shoulders tightly and then his vision of the porcelain sink disappeared and his hearing returned as he was pulled out of the water.

He fell to the ground hard and coughed; the floor cold and incredibly bright underneath his palms. At the surprise of being grabbed, he had ended up taking the breath that had already been prepared, taking in the water anyways and while it most definitely was not enough to kill him like he had originally intended, it was enough to give him the burning pain that came with the entry and exit of liquid from the lungs.

He turned over onto his hands and knees as his body physically forced the unwanted substance out of his system, only vaguely aware that he was not alone by the touch of a hand rubbing his back while the water exited through his nose and mouth.

Finally, he stopped coughing and fell onto his side still gasping slightly. It hurt his lungs to breathe, his throat soar and hesitant to swallow again with his nose feeling much the same way. Even though the ground was hard and uncomfortable against his back, he really just wanted to spend a few minutes lying here, recuperating, but he knew he could not relax, not now.

Feeling a pair of hands on either side of his face finally caught his attention. He opened his eyes to see none other than Jo crouched down in front of him and meeting her worried eyes, he offered her a weak smile.

She did not smile back.

“What the _hell_ were you _doing_?!” she practically yelled at him and he could see the anger clear as day on her face now. It made him wish the worry would return.

“I-I was just attempting to clear my mind,” his voice was raspy and it hurt his throat to talk but he continued anyways. That pain was easy to ignore though when it came to his attention that his original pain was still present. For some reason, he had found himself hoping that it would dissipate with the commotion that came with trying to drown one’s self…unfortunately not.

“ _Clear_ your _mind_? Henry…you had your entire head in the sink! It looked more like you were trying to kill yourself!” she yelled and he cringed at her words, squirming a bit on the cold tile underneath him. She was _incredibly_ angry and spot on as far as deducing what the actual planned outcome was meant to be.    

He was now facing a woman who was not only furious, but who was also right…a situation that was definitely not going to bode well for him.

“I was not…trying to kill myself,” he weakly said, breathing turning heavy again, “You merely…caught me—caught me off guard,” the pain, while having dwindled slightly, was now returning with a vengeance and he was finding it hard to stay focused on their conversation.  His brain just wanted to stop working and drift, but he could not let it…not when Jo had just witnessed something he had never intended for _anyone_ to see, least of all her.

Oh dear God…What was he going to tell her?

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I? Why the hell did you do this? Why did you even leave Lewis’ office in the first place?”

Her loud questions assaulted him one by one, but none fell heavier on him than the one involving the therapist. A sharp pain stabbed through his brain and he gave a small shout, grabbing his head once again as a reflex when all logical thought left his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Jo asked the anger that had just been so clear in her eyes fading and being replaced with the familiar worry he had grown accustomed to. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore, for her to worry or not worry about him. He was never one to enjoy attention brought on from something negative, but something about her care made him feel safe…something about it just felt familiar to him, but the pain was too great to put any more thought into it. He realized he was still holding his head in his hands, attempting to quell the massive pressure around his brain…actions that were completely futile as the pain only steadily increased.

She grabbed his hands with a gentleness he had not expected and pulled them away from his head, holding them in her own, “What are you feeling?”

All thoughts of protecting his secret were forgotten as he blindly answered what was asked of him.

“Pain,” he gritted out through his clenched teeth, “horrible pain in my head.”

“Do you know what’s causing it?” she asked.

He shook his head and shut his eyes tightly, not trusting his voice to stay steady if he spoke anymore. The warm pressure of her hands over his was distracting and reassuring though and he found he was glad she was here even if she did just catch him trying to kill himself.

“Okay, ummm…maybe it’s your memories trying to come back,” she sounded incredibly unsure but right now he found he didn’t care. He was willing to go with any reason she came up with as long as there was a solution to come along.

He was all of a sudden distracted by her hand releasing his own to move up and cup one side of his face, a movement he was definitely not expecting from her, “Henry, look at me. Open your eyes,” she gently prodded and after a few seconds he did as he was told, slowly opening his eyes to meet her warm brown ones. He could see the ghost of worry well hidden behind the warmth and found he definitely didn’t like seeing it there because of him, “I want you to relax. Clear your mind, make it blank, and take deep breaths. Here, follow me.”

She began taking deep breaths and with nothing left to lose, he followed the rhythm she set.

_In and out. In and out_.

He breathed with her. In through his nose and out through his mouth, all the while trying his best to stop the rapid flow of his mind. Then to his great surprise and relief, the pain slowly began to subside.

When the pain decreased to what felt at least a little more bearable, he gaped up at her in relieved wonderment.

“Better?” she asked him, noticing the change in his expression.

He nodded, eyes still searching hers curiously. The pain wasn’t completely gone, but it no longer felt as if his brain was going to explode with racing thoughts, “How did you know to do that?”

She shrugged, “Just something they teach us in the academy. It’s supposed to stop a panic attack and be used to help prevent a victim from going into shock…pretty useful information for a cop.”

Henry gave a light laugh that sounded almost breathless. If he had only known it would be that simple, “I would assume so.”

His laugh was cut short by her hands suddenly snaking around his body and then she was pulling him into a tight hug, her face pressing against his shoulder.

“Don’t _ever_ scare me like that again,” she murmured in his ear and after the few seconds that it took for him to overcome his shock, his body relaxed and he brought his own arms up to wrap around her in return.     

“I’m sorry. I never meant to frighten you,” he told her, voice pitched low and muffled by her hair, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t feeling something growing in the pit of his stomach right now. It was strange and somewhat exhilarating to be holding someone in his arms again. It had been years since he had had any contact filled with such warmth as he was feeling now. He could not help but release a low sigh into her hair at the content it brought him, almost like relief.

Now was most definitely not the time to get carried away in his emotions though, so he ignored the feeling and felt satisfied in just holding Jo tightly to him—allowing himself to gently rub her back—and having the feeling reciprocated as she held him just as tightly in return.

The moment didn’t last much longer, however, as Jo finally pulled away, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders with a light squeeze and…were her cheeks brighter in color?

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He tried not to think too far into her reddened face and just nodded as he took the hand she offered to help him to his feet. Once he was upright though, he was met with a dizzying rush that almost knocked him right back down to the floor again.

She steadied him with a hand to his shoulder, “Whoa, take it easy.”        

He grabbed her arm gratefully and then after the few seconds it took for Henry to regain his footing, they were out of the bathroom and leaving the hospital.

“Where are we going?” he asked Jo a bit cautiously when they reached her car.

“I’m taking you back home. We need to have a serious discussion about our options,” she answered him and Henry couldn’t help but feel fear spread throughout him at her words.

With a final glance back at the hospital, he had a dark feeling that this would not be the last time he laid eyes on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little dark, haha! I've never really written a scene like this, it was a pretty interesting experience. Next chapter will move Jo a little more into Henry's gang of secret keepers, currently a party of one but who knows, maybe that'll become two down the road;)  
> Thank you so much for reading though and please feel free to drop a comment, I love feedback!:D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hi, guys...heh. 
> 
> I don't even know where to start. Last time I updated this story was in 2015. I know, I know, it's 2018 now, It's been a LONG time. I was in high school when I was writing this story and the transition into college sort of took up all my time. That and a severe case of writers block. 
> 
> Long story short, I'm back with a chapter to whoever is still out there, but I can't promise I'm back for sure. Right now I'll do my best, but life gets in the way unfortunately. 
> 
> Also, thanks to the most recent comment for reminding me it's literally been years since I've updated lol, you got my butt in gear :)

The car ride back to the shop was quiet, Henry throwing glances at Jo every couple of minutes trying to judge her mood. But deep down he knew where her thoughts were.

He had made a mistake. Not in wanting to kill himself—in fact he still believed that a reset was his best chance in becoming normal again—no, he made a mistake in trying to kill himself in the hospital where Jo or anyone really had the chance to catch him. It was stupid, but he had panicked. Not knowing how or even if the pain could be stopped and with each new pulse that hurt more than the one before, he had to do _something_.

But how to communicate this to Jo without revealing who and what he really was? Or make her believe he was crazier than she already undoubtedly thought.

He let out a deep breath as the car brought them on route to return to Abraham's shop.

He was at a crossroads. Everything would be so much easier if Jo just knew his secret, knew that killing himself would actually be beneficial for him. But he could not bring himself to tell her. She was his friend and he knew that, could feel how much she cared for him and felt his own emotions for her in return, but she was still a stranger to him. In his mind, he had only just met her yesterday.

It would be extremely irresponsible of him to blurt out his secret to someone he had just met. He had to keep reminding himself of that because it was true, and if he made just one mistake, the consequences would be dire. He had known Nora for years even before they were married. He had had time to court her and get to know her family before he was sure in his decision and asked for her hand in marriage.

And look where that had landed him.

There must be a reason he had not told Jo yet if he truly had known her for the better part of a year. The last thing he wanted to do was make a mistake and ruin whatever life he had built here for himself and his son while he was stumbling around this world without his memories.

So no, he was just going to have to trust his judgment from prior to this whole incident and keep his secrets to himself. God knows he has reason enough not to tell her anyways and the feeling was only reinforced by being inside a modern psychiatric hospital.

He had to admit though that the care seems to certainly have improved since 1816. The walls were well built and he hadn't seen anyone shackled to their bed. Of course he had only seen the first floor but something told him that the conditions he was forced to live through no longer existed in 2015. It was a pleasing thought to consider but most definitely not enough to make him want to visit a room anytime soon. At least it made some of the resentment he felt towards what had happened to him back in his own time period dissipate slightly.

But it also reminded him that he had no idea what the reactions would be like if his immortality was discovered in this age. And he wasn't exactly crazy enough to try and find out. But if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that the pleasantries that existed in this generation would quickly be forgotten in favor of finding the secret to his immortality.

On that pleasant thought, they came to a screeching halt in front of the shop. Henry took a few seconds to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was about to come and then stepped out to meet his son.

The sound of the bell jingling above them announced their arrival but Abe was nowhere in sight.

"Abraham?"

"Just a minute!" he heard from somewhere deep in the house and then Abraham appeared, walking out of the basement. Henry frowned. Having seen what was down there, he wondered what Abraham could have possibly been doing. But with a quick shake of his head, he cleared those thoughts. This was Abraham's home; he had the right to go wherever he pleased in it.

"You guys back so soon?" he asked, looking between the two of them curiously albeit a little cautiously.

Henry glanced at Jo and quickly looked away, eyes seeking out a particularly dull statue of a horse sitting atop a table. He hoped she did not expect him to recount the story because he definitely did not feel much like living through it again.

Besides, he did not even want to imagine what Abraham's reaction would be. "We had a little incident earlier. I was hoping I could get your input," Jo finally said and Henry could practically feel her inquisitive eyes on him as she spoke. His stomach twisted at the thought, her scrutiny was making him feel restless…

"What kind of incident?" Abe asked wearily. He took on a tired expression as he turned towards Henry, eyes already searching his suspiciously.

Henry looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Abe's gaze as he waited for Jo to tell him about his failed attempt at suicide. God, he felt like a chagrined child about to be getting a stern lecture by his parents…wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

He found he was still confused on how this relationship was supposed to work, but what he did know was that right now he definitely did not feel like the two hundred-year-old father figure.

"We were at Bellevue following a lead when Henry..." Jo hesitated and lightly bit her bottom lip, "well, he got this really intense pain in his head. I don't know where it came from and neither does he…right, Henry?"

Jo gave him a meaningful look that clearly said answer or I'll reconsider and he could not help but feel relieved she did not immediately jump to the bathroom incident. He quickly nodded to answer her question.

"So I forced him to relax and clear his mind and it seemed to help," she sighed and looked at Abe almost wistfully, "do you know if he suffered from these kinds of headaches before?"

Abe frowned, "No. He's never gotten headaches before," he paused to glance at Henry, "at least not like that."

They were interrupted by a dinging sound coming from inside the kitchen. "

Oh, excuse me. I left the coffee on," Abe glanced towards the kitchen and began making his way in that direction, continuing to speak while he walked, "Come to think of it, he was having some pain earlier yesterday," his voice became muffled as it was covered with the sounds of clinking glass and steam hissing into the air, but he raised his voice slightly to be heard over the commotion, "It was right around when I asked him to remember something specific actually."

Jo nodded beside him, brow furrowed, and lips pushed together in concentration. She paced slowly and deliberately, absentmindedly making her way towards the kitchen. Then before he could say anything, he was left alone in the large, front room, the conversation having been moved elsewhere.

With a shrug, Henry followed. He had not been invited but then again, he seemed to be the main focus of conversation. He certainly must have some right that allowed him to listen to their talk like an adult instead of eavesdropping from another room like a child.

When he entered the kitchen, Jo was leaning back against the nearest counter while Abe was pouring the dark liquid—that was really starting to smell quite delectable—into a teacup.

He slipped into one of the chairs seated by the table, starting to realize just how tired he really was. His muscles ached and his throat and chest still felt sore. They probably would be feeling that way for quite some time though…

"Okay, so maybe this is connected to his memories," Jo murmured, seemingly trying to put all the pieces together like a puzzle. Something about Jo putting the puzzle pieces together made him feel a bit uncomfortable though…almost like he should be the one doing the solving.

Jo all of a sudden paused mid thought and looked at Henry in surprise, "That must have been one big memory."

"Anyone want a cup?" Abe interrupted, holding up his own teacup filled with the steaming liquid. Jo nodded and Abe pointed a finger at her, keeping count, "I got one taker…eh, no coffee for you Henry. I'll put decaf on."

Henry held back his frown. Why he even tried he had no idea. Well at least they were going to allow him decaffeinated coffee.

"What exactly were you guys doing at Bellevue?" Abe suddenly asked, preparing Jo's cup.

"We were questioning a therapist Henry had seen a couple weeks back for some information. Figured the guy could help," Jo answered back.

Abe shot Henry an accusing look over his shoulder.

"You went to Bellevue for therapy? You never told me that!"

Henry stayed quiet because really, what could he say? He had no memory of what he did and didn't tell Abe…how could he respond?

But he found he did not have to because Abe was already passed waiting for any sort of explanation from him as his whole body visibly went rigid.

Suddenly, Abe put the cup down with a loud clatter.

"Wait a minute," he turned on the spot to face Henry, eyebrows pushed low on his forehead, "You saw a therapist at Bellevue," he repeated the statement, eyes widening.

"Yes, Lewis Farber. That was the therapist we saw…what's wrong with that?" Jo asked curiously and now Henry's curiosity was peaked as well because by the look of things, Abraham knew something they didn't.

And considering the random and irrational pain, Henry found it imperative he learn this information.

Abraham moved away from the counter, empty teacups and steaming coffee left forgotten as he walked closer until he was standing right in front again, demanding their attention. But his turmoil filled eyes were mainly focused on Jo as he said the next part.

"Listen to me, Jo. You can't ever go back to that therapist, especially not with Henry."

"…What do you mean?" Jo asked, and she seemed just as caught off guard as Henry felt at seeing the fierceness in Abe's usually calm eyes.

"I mean he's dangerous and not to be trusted," Abe appeared as if wishing to say more but faltered. Then after no more than a second, he continued, grabbing Jo's arm, "Promise me you won't talk to that man."

And if he thought that he was curious before, that was nothing to how he felt now. Who was this man to him that had Abraham so worried? For the hundredth time, he cursed the endless black hole that was his memory.

"Abe, you know I can't unless you give me something concrete," Jo replied, just as confused as Henry as her eyes turned beseeching, "you need to talk to me. Just tell me what it is."

Henry looked back at Abe, somehow once again becoming only a witness to this conversation, not considered a part of it. But if there was one thing being able to stay silent offered, it was to be given the opportunity to observe the situation and store it away in his ever-growing source of knowledge.

Now though, seeing the tense lines and torn eyes on his son’s face, he could tell Abe was teetering on the edge.

And whatever it was he was hiding from Jo, Henry had a nagging suspicion that it had everything to do with _him_.

He didn't know why, but an intense anticipation washed over him as he watched Abraham drop his gaze down, mouth opening, and he just knew a confession was coming.

And then it hit him, the realization spreading throughout his body so quickly it made him lightheaded.

Abe was going to tell Jo. He did not know how he was so sure of it, but he was. Abe was going to tell her and there was nothing he could do to stop it…he wasn't completely sure if he even wanted to anymore. But judging by the strong fear that spread through his veins like ice as Abe lifted his eyes to meet Jo's searching gaze, a fierce determination making its way on his face, he was not ready for this.

Not in the slightest.

"Jo," Abe hesitated but then steeled himself and the entire room held its breath, "Henry's imm—"

A loud ringing pierced the room and just like that, the spell that kept him frozen in his seat was broken, the tension filing out quickly as if it were being sucked out by a vacuum. Jo cursed quietly, reaching into her pocket to remove her ringing phone.

Glancing at the screen, she looked regretfully at Abe, "I'm so sorry, could you just hold onto that for a moment?"

Abe nodded eyes slightly wider than usual and whole body still tensed even though the tension had long ago dissipated, "Sure."

Jo gave him another apologetic look, and then walked out of the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear.

Abe stayed frozen in the same spot, refusing to look at him like he knew what must be running through Henry's mind. Like he knew what he had just almost _done_.

Then again, he most likely did know. How could he not?

"Abraham, what are you doing?" Henry breathed out, running a hand through his hair haphazardly. With the intense moment now over, disbelief flooded through him at the thought that Abe had almost just told Jo his biggest secret. But along with the disbelief, there was the unmistakable presence of anger and even worse, _betrayal_.

Abe finally turned to face Henry, determination still showing clearly on the lines of his face, "I'm warning Jo, someone has to."

"Warn her about what?"

Then Abe's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline, before he closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Damn it! I forgot you…I guess you wouldn't…"

Henry waited a bit impatiently as he watched Abe struggle to get the words out. Something he had never seen him having trouble with.

"Henry, that therapist you saw today…that was Adam."

"Adam," Henry repeated automatically, he recognized the name. It had been jumbled with the many that were thrown at him yesterday in a quick summary of the latest events in his life.

Abe ran a hand down his face, sucking in a deep breath through his fingers, "He's your stalker! The other immortal!"

The room tilted dangerously in Henry's vision. "My God…" he had been right there, sitting down right in front of the man. The only other link to what he truly was, and the most dangerous one at that from what he gathered yesterday. Panic ran like ice through his veins and he tried to keep his breathing normal. He was not used to this—this—this game! For all he knew, this other immortal knew everything about him while Henry in turn knew nothing and he did not have even an inkling of what to do.

He was still new to this life. No matter what year he was in now, in his mind he was from the year 1816 and still very knew to life as an immortal. He could barely survive then let alone now where he was placed in a situation where all the advantages lay with the other man. He needed help; he did not know from whom, but someone had to help him…he couldn't do this by himself. "What do we do?" he asked in something close to a whisper.

"We tell Jo!" Abe urged.

"You can't be serious!" Henry replied, this time much too loudly. After a quick shush from Abe, he continued in a harsh whisper, "I hardly know her!"

"That's right now," Abe protested, "Before you trusted her the most out of everyone you know. You _have_ to tell her."

Henry shook his head defiantly and sprang out of his chair, bringing himself closer to Abe while all other sound was blocked out by the blood rushing in his ears, "Then why _didn't_ I tell her? If I trusted her as deeply as you say I did, why did I not just _tell_ her?"

Abe sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. In the back of his mind, Henry felt bad for upsetting the man so considerably, but he didn't know what it was like. He didn't know how long it took for Henry to perfect the lies he told people, how long it took for him to learn to be someone else each and every time a death would be witnessed and the description of the poor dead man would be just close enough to maybe look like him.

He didn't know what it was like to spend months hiding and waiting to escape those that pursued him... He didn't know what it was like to fear discovery.

He took a steady breath and released it slowly, trying to relax the dark turn his thoughts had taken. That was right, Abe didn't know, which was why he shouldn't be taking out his frustration on him. If anything, the man was only trying to help…he should show more gratitude instead of yelling at the man.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, forcing his voice to return to its calm and stable tone, "It's just…once betrayed, I don't forget very easily. I'm sure you've noticed."

Abe softened at that and took a step closer to lay his hand heavily on Henry's shoulder, "I know that, pops. It's just I also know that bell won't save you forever. Sooner rather than later, you're going to have to tell her and I'd rather it be in a situation we can control."

Henry looked at Abe in surprise. That was the first time he had ever heard the man use any terms that even resembled their true relationship to one another. And he had to admit, while hearing the unfamiliar word was strange, he found he liked the sound of it.

All of a sudden, Jo entered the room, clearing her throat lightly to announce her reentry.

Once she had their attention, she spoke, face grim, "That was Hanson, there's been another murder," her eyes rested on Henry as she said the last part.

Henry felt his breath catch in his throat.

_Not again_.

"By Jones?" he asked.

"We don't know for sure yet but right now it's looking like him. Witnesses report there's a message written in Latin on the wall…"

Henry was almost afraid to ask, "What's the message say?"

Jo's eyes were soft as she answered him, like he would break if she spoke too loudly, "I won't know until I get over there, but listen," she paused for a second and put her hands in her coat pockets, looking almost nervous to speak further, "I want you to go get checked out. After what happened today, I can't just leave you without a professional opinion—"

"No," Henry interrupted her. She knew how he felt about the facilities, so why was she even broaching the subject? Surely, she was aware of what his answer would be?

At his reply, Jo stiffened. It was so slight he would have missed it had he not been watching her so intently and she met his eyes firmly, matching the challenge he presented her with just as equally.

"Abe?" she asked, finally tearing her eyes away from their intense confront to look at Abraham.

With the loss of her eyes, Henry looked at Abe too.

Abe glanced between the two of them, brow furrowed. He lingered on Jo for a few seconds more, taking in her hardened expression that almost seemed to have a hint of desperation lingering just below the surface, and then turned to face Henry.

"I think she's right, Henry."

Henry's eyes narrowed. He wasn't naive, he knew what was happening and he could see that he was clearly outnumbered. With a glance at Jo, he also knew that she would not be persuaded, no matter the argument he supplied.

His heart picked up a beat. They were going to force him to a hospital and he couldn't say a damn thing to convince them otherwise. A light sweat broke out over his forehead as his hands went cold with just the thought of returning to that accursed building.

What if the pain returned? Or worse, what if they found something?

After his escape from the prison, he had been unable to gain access to any medical equipment. Dr. Henry Morgan was presumed dead, he had simply disappeared. He couldn't resurface and risk exposure by using his title to access some of the new technologies they had just received. So he had been unable to check his blood for any abnormalities to explain his condition.

The technology of this age was so advanced compared to what he was used to. What if they were to find something different swimming in his blood? Something not _human_?

The more he considered the outcomes, the faster his heart beat against his rib cage.

He would not go…he refused! The only way they would be able to make him go would be to knock him out of consciousness!

He felt a light pressure on his arm and looked up into Jo's gentle brown eyes.

"It’s okay, Henry. It'll just be a checkup, I promise," she murmured and even though he was struggling to stay angry with her, his body still calmed at her assurance.

His thoughts on the other hand, needed more persuasion than that.

She had promised him that he would not be forced into this situation. He was supposed to be able to trust her. He was supposed to be able to trust her with his life, with his secret, but right now, he was having trouble keeping the look of betrayal out of his eyes as he stared back at her.

"I'll uh—just go get my coat," Abe murmured, leaving Henry and Jo alone in the kitchen as he left the room.

Jo was the first to break the silence between them by taking a step closer.

"Henry, I know you're angry, but you need this," she inched closer. Slowly, like he was an animal that would scurry away any second. Surprisingly, that wasn't too far from what he felt like doing; running far away…

"You're sick and it's only getting worse," she continued.

He clenched his jaw and breathed tightly through his nose, "I'm fine."

"No Henry, you're not. I don't know what you were trying to do in the bathroom or what that pain was, but people who are _fine_ don't _do_ that."

Henry opened his mouth but then shut it quickly, looking down. He scrambled for some response, for some way to explain, but he was coming up blank. There was no way for him to convince her of his reasons without sounding absolutely insane.

So he just stared at her, the stubbornness radiating off him practically tangible in the air between them. With a resigned sigh, she shook her head and turned away to leave the kitchen, on her way to the front doors.

"I'm going to get to the crime scene, they're waiting for me," she murmured, but then paused; hand frozen on the push bar, "it's really going to be okay, Henry. They're not going to do anything you don't want them to do."

He did not relax though, even though his body desperately wanted to. His stance in the kitchen remained just as stoic and filled with tension as before.

"Henry, please go," she asked, eyes turning beseeching, "just do it for me…and if they try anything you don't give consent for, I'll take you right out of there and never make you go again."

After a short pause, he gave a slight nod and tried to ignore the flood of relief he felt at her words. It was insane to think that with just a few words, this woman could completely right his tumbling world. He could feel himself slowly starting to gain faith in her, no matter how much his instincts were warning him against it. He identified the warm feeling spreading through his chest as none other than trust and it scared him because trust meant reliance and reliance was something he couldn't condone, not in his life.

She must have seen some of his inner turmoil because she did not move, just stayed there with her hand on the door, and completely frozen in his conflicted gaze.

"Alright, Henry, if we leave now we can avoid the evening rush. Maybe the waiting won't be so long," Abe called out, announcing his entry.

And just like that, the connection between them was broken, Jo looked down and with a quiet murmured goodbye, she was gone.

Henry watched her walk towards her car, feeling truly and utterly confused. What was going on? There was a slight tugging in the back of his mind, almost as if fate was poking at his memory and for a second, he felt like he could maybe remember something, but then just as quickly as the tugging had appeared, it was pulled out of his grasp, leaving him with the familiar frustration that had become his norm for the past few days.

"Um, did I interrupt something?" Abe asked a bit awkwardly into the silence.

"No." it came out as a statement, a bit stronger than he intended, but considering he was about a half an hour away from possibly having his secret exposed, he decided he was allowed a bit of terseness. "Let's go."

Abe nodded and together they walked out into the frigid air of the busy city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know who's still out there and if this is worth continuing. 
> 
> Let your voices be heard :D


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